Thicker than Blood
by Story Please
Summary: Everyone has lingering scars, especially after war, and especially after many have lost their lives. But what if Severus Snape had been given a second chance from an unexpected source of mercy? What if Hermione stumbles upon something meant to stay secret? And what happens when a monstrous creature is capable of more humanity than any man?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: A birthday gift fic for Sekdaniels, who requested mermaids and astrology and dreamy Pisces things. And a little bit of sexytime spiciness for those looking for a nice, long diversion.

After a long deliberation, I've decided this is going to be a multi-chapter fic, so stay tuned for Chapter 2!

Also, many thanks to HollowG1rl for looking things over! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A Secret in Silence**

Severus Snape was dying.

His blood ran, hot and thick, down his body without any sign of slowing. His throat made a terrible whistling noise as he struggled to breathe. For a short time, he'd been paralyzed, but the Dittany he'd managed to pour down the front of himself using wandless magic had thankfully fixed that problem. Still, he knew that he would perish from blood loss if he didn't get back to his potions lab immediately. Severus cursed himself for not grabbing the antivenin before meeting with the Dark Lord and Nagini. He'd worked tirelessly on developing it in secret, but it had to be stored in a specific container at a specific temperature and could not be shaken or jostled too abruptly or it would nullify the effects. He'd been working on a solution for that when his time had run out.

He closed his eyes. There was nothing for it.

If Sirius Black had been there, he'd probably have said something cruel, like "There's no way you're going to slither out of this one, Snivellus."

A small gagging sound escaped his lips that would probably have been the tiniest of laughs had his throat not been in ruins. Imagine, thinking of Black, his long-dead nemesis, at a time like this! He should be thinking of Lily…

 _Green eyes._

 _Memories seeping down his cheeks._

 _Voldemort's cruel look._

 _Nagini._

His eyes shook in their sockets with horror as the realization dawned upon him.

 _The snake. The SNAKE. THE SNAKE!_

 _No_. The boy would die. The boy would die in vain if Nagini was not destroyed.

With an almost Herculean effort, he flopped over onto his side, reached inside of himself to touch the magical core that burned hot and white in the center of his being, and he thought HOGWARTS with as much determination as he could.

With a sensation much like being pulled inside out, he disappeared moments before a fireball smashed into the side of the Shrieking Shack and set it ablaze.

* * *

Hermione wanted desperately to be alone.

Now, this seemingly simple problem was much harder to solve than one might think, especially when one was the newly appointed Deputy Headmistress and Potions Professor at Hogwarts. No matter where she went, it seemed like someone wanted her to drop everything and do something for them. Even worse was her penchant for doing just that, which led to a marked decrease in her precious time for herself.

She flinched as Flitwick turned the corner and squeaked out her name excitedly. Hermione stifled a groan. Why couldn't this wait until Monday? It was the weekend, for Merlin's sake!

Hermione fought the urge to run in the opposite direction and forced a smile onto her face.

"Ah! Hermione! Just who I wanted to see!"

"Filius," she said as evenly as she could muster, "what seems to be the matter?"

"I was hoping to invite you," he replied excitedly, standing up on tiptoe and handing her a golden envelope, "to join us for our weekly game of Wizard's Bridge."

Hermione stared at the envelope as he tried to press it into her hand and tried to keep the petulant whine that was threatening to rear its ugly head in check. "But honestly, I'm sure someone else would be a better fit. I mean, I don't know how to play!"

Filius gave her a shrewd look, then nodded. "Don't tell him I told you this and if you do, it was confessed under duress, but it's all a plot by Weasley to get you on his team."

Hermione stiffened. She'd been on the outs with Ron romantically since he'd gotten drunk at one of the Ministry gatherings after the war and made out with half of the eligible single witches at the party, many of whom were far more slender and well-coiffed than Hermione would ever be. But that hadn't been the worst part. No, the worst of it had been that, when the embarrassment had finally faded, she actually felt _relieved_. Relieved that she wouldn't have to listen to him prattle on endlessly about Quidditch and then get interrupted or have him disappear conveniently the moment she talked about her own interests. Relieved that she wouldn't have to listen to his criticisms of her cooking, when he refused to do any of it. Relieved to know that she wouldn't be disappointed in the bedroom by his inattention to her body beyond what gave him pleasure.

Sure, Ron wasn't some sort of mustache-twirling villain, but Hermione knew that was precisely why he was dangerous. When he wanted to be, he was just nice and sweet and cute enough for her to try and convince herself to try again with him, and she did not, under any circumstances, want that to happen again.

"Hermione?" Filius adjusted his glasses and looked up at her with a concerned expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Thank you for telling me the truth," Hermione said. "Don't give me that look, I'm fine. I just need to...clear my head."

"It's a nice day for a walk," Filius responded cheerfully.

Hermione took one look out the window to confirm that the sun was indeed shining and that the students were out enjoying it in droves. Panic rose in her chest and she swallowed thickly.

"I think I forgot something in my classroom," she said hurriedly, and fled down the stairs towards the Potions classroom before Filius could ask her anything else.

* * *

There was darkness and cold all around him.

The unforgiving water would have shocked the breath out of him had he able to breathe. He sank deep, deeper into endless, watery night.

A soft hum reached his ears, and his eyes beheld the softest of lights coming closer through the murkiness.

 _Here lies dying a man of the land,_

 _Who saved a child of the sea,_

 _He breathes no air or water,_

 _He is wretched as can be._

 _Take my hand, dear wizard,_

 _And we shall do our best,_

 _It is not yet time for you to go,_

 _And meet eternal rest._

She appeared with a fan of translucent fins surrounding her face like a halo.

Severus closed his eyes again and waited for his judgement.

* * *

Hermione had never been afraid of crowds as a child. She'd loved the semi-anonymity of taking the train or walking in a crowded shop. She enjoyed slipping through the hustle and bustle of people living lives that had nothing to do with hers. She loved, too, being outdoors whenever she wasn't sitting about with her nose in a good book.

But then the war had come.

And Hermione had been chased through busy streets by men who'd wanted to kill her or worse.

And she'd had a taste of what _worse_ meant under the knife of Bellatrix Lestrange at Malfoy Manor.

And sometimes she still woke up gasping through a silent scream and it would be terrifying moment after moment trying to catch her breath.

The scar on her arm ached in pins and needles whenever it got cold. St Mungos had been unable to do much for a wound created by a cursed knife beyond sealing it back up again.

And so, the scar remained, as did its twinges. It would always remind her of the woman who'd hurt her.

In the castle, it wasn't so bad. Crowds could only get so large in the hallways, and though it was a bit upsetting having to hear the chatter in the Great Hall, she mostly stayed up at the Head Table and did not have to interact with many others. She used the _Muffliato_ charm to soften the sounds around her when the din was far too great for her to bear.

Every time she used it, she thought of Snape, and wondered if he'd ever used it while sitting up at the Head Table.

It was hard not to think of him. He was like a ghost that silently haunted the castle, forgotten by all but herself. Everything in the Potions classroom had been his, or, rather, had been touched by him. There were few items that seemed to specifically be his personal property, but whenever she found a caldron or stirring rod with his initials carved into the side, her chest would jolt and she'd see the image of his blood-soaked body lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack and she would have to stop and breathe deeply until the memory of the smell of blood and the sounds of him choking on his own blood finally faded once more.

She knew this wasn't normal, but she knew she couldn't tell anyone. They'd make her take a break from her duties, maybe check herself in to St. Mungo's, and then she'd have nothing to distract her, nothing to take her thoughts off of the horrors that would edge their way in here and there despite all that she did to banish them, and she knew that she would go mad.

No, this was her burden to bear, for the alternative was unthinkable.

* * *

Severus had been gathering gillyweed and other marsh-dwelling potions ingredients when he heard a screech that chilled his very soul. His understanding of Mermish was very limited, but he knew that sound.

The sound of a mother going out of her mind in fear for her child.

Severus dropped the basket on his back into the cold, shallow water, careful to affix the strap with a Sticking Charm to a nearby rock, and ran towards the sound despite a voice in his head telling him that this was not at all any of his business.

"Oh shite," he muttered as he saw the mer-child in the grips of a mountain troll. The stupid thing had gripped the poor boy by its tail like a fish and was swinging a large club around at the other merfolk that were flopping about on land in an ungainly fashion, desperately trying to reach the child. Their teeth were bared in a feral display that reminded Severus more of a snapping turtle than a human person, and their slitted eyes were wide and full of fury. The troll kept swinging the child wildly as though trying to snap his neck, but its swing was far too slow due to its ungainly size. Two older Mermish lay on the ground, their bodies bruised and bloody from having already been struck by the club.

Severus pulled out his wand and transfigured a fallen tree branch into a length of rope. It wasn't a particularly perfect job, for small leaves and a few buds still protruded from the weave, but it would have to do. Severus knew already that most spells did not affect trolls very well, as magical creatures had some degree of immunity to magic. Plus, there was the safety of the mermish child at stake. He could not risk hitting the lad with a stray strongly-cast curse.

Chanting quickly in a low voice, he imbued the rope with an invulnerability charm and then levitated it towards the troll.

"Incarcerous!" he shouted, directing the rope around the trolls massive legs.

Additional bonds began to sprout from the ground, pulling the troll into the earth below it. Severus jumped into the air, allowing his thoughts to send him flying, the way that he and Lily had figured out how to do all those summers ago. He'd sworn never to use it again, not after he'd taught the Dark Lord the damned spell to secure his place among his cursed followers, but there was a child in danger and Severus knew he had no other option. The troll was falling too quickly. With a quick Stinging Hex to the troll's fingers, the creature let go of the mer-child and Severus grabbed the squirming boy, who scratched at him wildly, keening like a furious kitten all the while. The troll fell with an earth-shattering thud behind Severus as he landed and handed the boy to the mer-woman who had run towards him, her mouth open silently with shock and lingering fury.

She grabbed him away and he nodded his head, making the few signs with his hands that Dumbledore had taught the staff to explain that he was a member of the Hogwarts faculty and that he meant them no harm, only to help.

The mer-folk still looked at him warily, but they nodded, signing back their understanding. The troll bellowed behind them and Severus turned back, scowling. Then, he muttered a few very ancient words, hoping that the Old Spirits were listening. The troll yelped as though bitten and Severus knew they had heard as he watched the ground form a jagged, toothy mouth and pull the troll into its earthy maw with a terrible growling, slurping sound. In moments, the teeth knitted together, leaving the ground undisturbed as though it had never happened.

Severus then pulled a phial of Dittany and Blood Replenishing Potion from his robes and attended to the injured mer-folk, helping them to the water as soon as it was safe.

The mother and child stayed above the water longer than the others, her slitted eyes filled with a silent gratitude that Severus could practically feel emanating through the air.

 _As a professor, I am at your service_ , he signed with his hands, bowing his head.

With a nod, she wrapped her child in her arms tightly and then turned with a splash and disappeared into the depths of the Black Lake.

Severus thought nothing of his actions that day. It was his duty as a Potions Master, after all.

* * *

Hermione reached the Potions classroom without encountering another soul. Thankfully, the nice weather along with the weekend had made her descent into the dungeons bearable. She flitted along the rows of potions ingredients, her fingers lingering on them as though this would calm her nerves.

Why couldn't Ron leave her be?

Ron wasn't a professor, but he'd been temporarily assigned by the Aurors to stay on at Hogwarts to ensure student safety. Mostly, he used this as an excuse to hang out at the quidditch pitch with Madam Hooch and drink too much Firewhisky when classes were done for the day. Or he'd play Wizard's Chess with Professor Sinestra, since she was the only one who he had trouble beating with his advanced tactical abilities. She was suspicious that there was more to his presence than he was letting on, but if there was, her desire to avoid him was far greater than her desire to know the truth.

 _I just need a place...a secret place...a place where I cannot be found…_

Lost in her thoughts, she pressed a finger against the lip of an empty and extremely dusty jar near the back of the shelf, slowly tracing the rim until it made a soft humming noise.

A soft noise across the room startled her out of her reverie, and she rushed over to a long, floor-length tapestry; one of several that lined the dreary and windowless stone room.

Peeking behind it, her eyes widened as she beheld a small black door that had not been there before.

A heavy knock sounded on the door to the classroom and Hermione whirled, her heart in her throat.

"Mione?" Ron's voice boomed under the crack in the door. "You in there? Filius told me you'd be down here in Creepyville, so I've come to drag you back into the light. Oi! Mione!"

She froze as she heard the handle jiggling. She knew she'd locked the door, that she was safe, that Ron wasn't trying to hurt her, but her body seemed to disagree.

"Of all the ridiculous— _Alohomora_!" Hermione felt as though time had stopped as the door handle began to turn.

Without thinking, she dove behind the tapestry and pushed on the black door, which opened silently and easily to the touch, then stepped into the darkness, letting the door close behind her.

In the darkness, Hermione felt no panic, no fear. The air was surprisingly fresh for a passageway that smelled strongly of dust and had obviously not been used in a long time. The darkness seemed to encircle her like a comforting blanket, and she could hear no sounds from the other side of the door, which had gone flat and was now no more than an outline carved in the stone when she held her lighted wand tip up to examine it.

Stone steps wound downward, and Hermione followed them, feeling a mixture of relief and curiosity beating in her breast. When she finally reached another door, she merely pressed her hand around the outline of the doorknob and felt it bulge out into three dimensions. Turning the door knob, she pushed open the door, and her eyes went wide at what she beheld inside.

It was everything she'd ever dreamed of, and more.

The room was cozy, with a fireplace against one wall, and a thin bed with a green silken canopy tied back elegantly with silver cords. There were several tall bookcases on either sides of the fireplace filled to bursting, and a tall, black wingback chair on the rug nearby, along with a matching ottoman that still bore the faint impression of a heel in the center of it. A narrow circular table stood nearby with a pair of folded glasses and a fountain pen in the middle. As she looked to the right and left of where she stood, she realized that there were a few other doors against the wall that she'd entered the room from. Two of the doors were open part way. One appeared to be a small bathroom, while the other seemed to be a brewing room, and there were two closed doors.

But that wasn't what had caught Hermione's attention.

A massive glass window stretched across the wall before her. It bathed the room in a faint greenish glow and as Hermione watched, a shoal of silver fish darted past, chased by the Giant Squid. She placed her forehead against the cold glass and closed her eyes.

She had found the lost quarters of Severus Snape.

After the war, there had been many attempts to find his personal quarters, but other than the few things they'd found in the Headmaster's Office that could be attributed to him, every attempt had turned up fruitless. It was as though Severus Snape had never slept anywhere at all, which led to a number of jokes about him having hung from the ceiling in the dungeons like a bat.

Whispering the charm to light the candles, Hermione dropped a log into the fireplace and set it ablaze with her wand, watching with wide eyes as a cheery glow grew in the room.

Hermione ran her fingers over some of the titles on the bookshelf and bit her lip when she noticed the rarity of some of the titles. This room was a _gift_ , that much was apparent, and she was not going to share it with anyone unless she absolutely had to.

She walked over to the chair and pressed herself back into the distressed black leather. It conformed to her body fairly well, but she knew that it wasn't her shape that it had acclimated to originally. She grabbed the glasses and tried them on. Snape had reading glasses? She squinted and took them off again. The prescription wasn't all that strong. She placed them back on the table and grabbed the fountain pen. The side was engraved with his name on it, and she wondered when he'd received it. Was it a gift for graduating from Hogwarts? Had it been a present from an old flame? A birthday present from Lucius Malfoy? A gift from Voldemort himself?

She placed the pen back on the table, suddenly disturbed at the thought that Voldemort himself might have touched it at some point.

She got up from the chair and walked around, exploring. The toilet was clean and simple. She smiled at the shaving kit in the cabinet behind the mirror over the sink, and smirked when she saw the cornucopia of shampoos and conditioners on a shelf next to the bathtub.

She opened his closet and was hit with the thick, herbal scent of his robes. With a sense of wonder, she ran her fingers over the soft cloaks and robes that hung within, feeling a lump of sadness welling up in her throat as she remembered that he would never wear these anymore.

Even with the fire at a respectable size, it was still cold in the room. Hermione supposed that even with charmed glass that the depths of the Black Lake would still suck heat out of the air. On impulse, she grabbed one of the robes and brought it over to the bed, covering herself with it. The fabric was thick and warm to the touch. For some reason, the scent combined with the comforting soft light in the room lulled her into a light sleep.

She dreamed that she was lying in the bed, her eyes closed. She couldn't move, but she could still see and hear everything going on around her, and for some reason, she felt a deep sense of ease fill her body. Snape paced in front of the fire, his robes billowing out behind him yet never touching the flame. He ran his finger across the spines of the books on the third row of the book case, then chose the third one from the end. He opened it and pulled a thinner leather-bound volume from it, then brought it to the table and summoned a quill pen. He scrawled a few lines of text, then looked up, towards where Hermione lay, but did not seem to see her at all. His expression relaxed, and he went back to writing. As he did so, he hummed absentmindedly, and the sound of his voice led her deeper and deeper into a dreamless sleep.

She awoke to a dying fire and near-darkness. The sound of someone humming as though from far away still filled the air before fading away completely. Hermione stood and searched the room, but thankfully she was still alone. The green light from the depths of the Black Lake had disappeared, leaving the uncanny impression of a black mirror. As she lit her wand tip, she realized belatedly that there were long, velvet curtains pulled tight to one side. Perhaps he lowered them at night to keep some of the chill out of the room. She checked her wristwatch. _Damn_. She'd missed the evening meal and it was nearly time for her to patrol.

Memories of the dream stuck with her, though, and she found herself standing in front of the bookcase. She slid her fingers down the row of books as she'd seen Snape do in the dream, stopping at the third from the end. Slowly, and without realizing she was holding her breath, she pulled the volume from its place on the shelf.

Inside, was the little leather-bound volume, just as she had dreamed. She replaced the larger book and turned the smaller one over in her hand. It opened easily and as she looked at the yellowish page, words in dark blue ink began to appear.

Hermione dropped the book with a cry. The book landed with its pages open, and she watched familiar spidery writing appear. Once the book appeared to finish populating the words etched into its parchment, however, it did nothing else. Suspicious, Hermione cast a few hex-revealing and curse-revealing spells just to make sure. The book was free of enchantment.

She picked it up gingerly, as though diffusing a bomb, but she needn't have worried. The book was just...a book.

"No," she breathed aloud, pressing the lighted tip of her wand into the pages so she could see better. "It couldn't be."

But it was.

His name was written in a surprisingly legible cursive on the inside cover with a line surrounding it. There were tiny notes on every other inch of the inside cover, some musings, a few quotes (a few uncredited), what looked like a recipe for cookies, and notes on a new charm for making footprints glow. There were little doodles too, including one of a tiny bird not much bigger than her thumb that was so intricately shaded that Hermione could see the individual feathers.

" _Severus T. Snape_ ," she read aloud, then, " _Notes and reflections_. His personal journal."

She jumped with surprise as something thudded to her right and turned to look.

Large, inky-black eyes stared down at her.

Hermione squeaked with surprise and fell backwards onto her arse in a most undignified manner, her wand spinning forward on the polished stone until it came to rest against the bottom lip of the window. The book slid in the opposite direction, coming to rest near the foot of the bookcase. The face disappeared from the glass abruptly and she could see a large shadow moving down towards where the tip of her wand shone brightly on the floor. It was a shape that was less fish than man, but still one that was decidedly inhuman. It slowed as it reached its destination, and as the murk began to clear and Hermione's eyes began to adjust, she could see that the creature was one of the merfolk that lived deep in the Black Lake...only... _not_. The mer-people had fin-like legs that were more tail-like than feet-like. They could hop on land in an ungainly manner if pressed to do so, but they were unable to move with anything resembling grace.

The merman (for his chest was not covered in woven water-grasses the way that the female merfolk she'd seen at the Triwizard Tournament had worn), was a mottled smoky gray on most of his body with small bluish white lights that pulsed down both sides of his body as he turned in the water. A webbed dorsal fin jutted out from his lower back, and she could see gills ringing his neck and throat. His huge eyes were dark and round in his pale, bone-white face, and it seemed that they were all pupil, but at the moment they were focused on her wand and not her. Though his legs moved together like fins, and his feet were webbed the same as his hands, his legs were more like that of a human. She blushed as she realized with a bit of embarrassment that her eyes had wandered down towards his lower torso and she could see the shape of his testicles rather clearly due to him wearing nothing at all, but the rest thankfully appeared to be hidden by some manner of inventive merfolk biology. The thing that struck her as the most unusual, though, was his hair. It was long and dark and fine and swirled around his head like a living thing. Most sea-dwelling creatures did not need or have long hair, and this filled Hermione with curiosity. She made a mental note to check the library for books on the subject.

He was upside down in relation to her, but she supposed that perhaps in the weightlessness of water, she would be the upside down one. It was all perspective, after all. She moved forward and knelt down, her hand unconsciously extended until she finally pressed her palm against the cold glass. Instantly, she could feel his eyes upon her.

"Hello," she said. The sound of her voice felt flat in the dark, cosy room. She watched with fascination as he slowly began to move one of his hands to press upside down against the other side of the glass. His face grew closer, as though he was trying to see her more clearly, but just as Hermione leaned forward expectantly, a glowing gray streak popped through the far wall and startled them both.

"Hermione! Where have you been all afternoon?" Minerva McGonagall's voice sounded slightly exasperated but unconcerned as it emerged from the silvery patronus cat that had materialized on the floor. "Have you fallen asleep with your nose in a book again? At least get yourself some proper supper in the kitchens. I don't like to worry about you, as you well know. Once you're sorted, send a patronus to confirm that you haven't met an untimely end. I shall be most displeased if I have to go through a hiring session this early in the year."

The patronus disappeared and Hermione snickered at Minerva's deadpan humor. She grabbed the book from where it had fallen and placed it back in its hiding place. When she finally turned back to the glass, all that she could see was the murky darkness of the water.

She was alone again.

* * *

Severus floated aimlessly in the darkness as his body shifted and changed. His fingers brushed against the ruins of his throat as they knitted back together leaving slits— _gills_. He moved on, disturbed by the thought of what was happening to him; what _had_ happened to him.

He pressed his fingers against his lips, remembering the shock of the freezing water, and then...

A mermaid's kiss.

He'd known her at once, even with his sight distorted by blood loss and the dark water around him. She had followed the scent of his blood in the water. Her teeth were sharklike as she grinned at him. He would have laughed had he any air left in his lungs. He had been poisoned, stabbed (by a snake), drowned by his own ambitious attempt to Apparate in his sorry state, and now _this_.

 _Well, at least my corpse won't go to waste like my life has,_ he thought darkly.

But instead of going in for the kill, she circled him, her tailfin shining like silver where it hit the light of the moon. Or at least he thought it was the moon. His mind was sluggish, fading. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was still lying on that wretchedly dirty hardwood floor at the Shack.

But she had taken his head in her hands and gently pressed her lips to his, and he could feel the water vibrating all around him as she hummed a familiar song— a song of healing, of change, of freedom. Something warm and bitter passed from her mouth and into his. It slid down his ragged throat as though it had a mind of its own and he shuddered in her arms.

"Sleep, now, Se-ver-us," she sang, and she was right. He _was_ tired.

She tucked him onto a sandy outcropping, covered him with long grasses, and kissed his forehead like a doting mother would kiss her son. Severus was struck by the nostalgia it evoked inside of him. She smiled her sharky smile and he realized that he had been wrong.

It was not menacing at all.

He slept.

* * *

"Hermione! There you—oh come on! Stop running away!" Ron Weasley frowned as he sat down in Professor Sinistra's chair and blocked Hermione's escape.

"Ron." Hermione said through gritted teeth. "Morning."

" _Seriously_? I invite you to Hogsmeade, you tell me you have grading to do. I stop by your office with a snack because I know you work yourself into a stupor and you lock your door and hide from me! I've even been trying to call you by your full name because I know you don't like being called by that nickname. I thought we were best friends, Hermione."

"We...we _are_ friends, Ron," Hermione started, trying to think how she could say what she felt without sounding like a total arsehole.

" _Best_ friends?" he pressed.

"Um, well, you don't just defeat Voldemort with a casual acquaintance, now do you?" Hermione replied with a nervous laugh.

"Hermione, I practically know you better than you know yourself. I know that you've been lonely. I know that we've both done some things that we're not proud of—"

"Ron…"

"I freely admit that I let my fame go to my head a bit, and—"

" _Ron_."

"All I'm saying is that—"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, then clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Some of the students and most of the staff was beginning to stare. She blushed and lowered her voice. "I'd prefer not to make a scene."

"We can talk about this later," Ron said, his expression strained. He placed his hand over Hermione's briefly, and she had to force herself not to flinch.

She breathed a discreet sigh of relief when he finally stood and walked back over to his customary place near the other end of the Head Table.

Hermione did not want to talk about their relationship. Not at a later time. Not in a different place. Not alone with Ron. Preferably...never. Even though she knew that perhaps she'd be able to be friends with him at some point, she knew from experience that any little concession she made would be considered proof that she would come back to him in a romantic manner as well.

She just couldn't risk it.

While she taught her classes, Ron would patrol the halls of the school as well as the outside grounds for "suspicious behavior." Hermione had her own suspicions about why the Aurors had stationed him at Hogwarts, but most of them were conjecture. The official word was that an Auror ought to be on hand in case a Dark item or Dark creature were discovered left over from after the final battle. Hermione could understand the logic, for she knew of situations where unexploded mines from World War II had been discovered many decades later. Still, the Aurors had gone through the entire area quite a number of times before students had been allowed back at Hogwarts, and Hermione was sure that this was not the real reason.

Of course, it was also possible that Ron had requested to be stationed at Hogwarts and leveraged his status as a war hero to get his way. Hermione knew that his preferred method of strategy was to wear down his opponent until they lost. Still, Hermione hoped that this was not true, for it would mean that Ron would be an exceptionally poor loser if he didn't get what he wanted…and Hermione was not about to be anyone's prize.

Then there was the third possibility. Maybe Ron had been sent to Hogwarts to look for something. But what was it? And would he tell her what it was if she asked him? Probably not. And anyway, that would simply lead her back to the danger of getting his hopes up for reconciliation when she had no intention of doing so.

Hermione pulled back her bushy hair so that it was out of her face and then tied it up in a messy ponytail to get the heat and weight of her hair off her neck. She'd been finished with her classes by two in the afternoon, but there were still papers to grade and potions to check. Really, she was proud of most of her students this year. Even though many of them knew her from when she was in school (or perhaps because of this fact), none of the students gave her any pushback in class, and those that had trouble didn't hesitate to speak up so that they could get the help they needed.

She stood and stretched halfway through her grading. Most professors liked grading out of their offices, but Hermione liked how cosy the Potions classroom was. The dim lighting and dark stone only increased her love of it. She felt protected and safe, which was increasingly hard for her elsewhere.

Being cramped in a small tent for more than half a year while under the constant fear of being caught and tortured had changed her. Whenever she was forced to leave the castle, she always kept her wand held tightly in one hand and hidden by her sleeve. Her skin would practically crawl as she tried to stop herself from casting the protective wards she was so used to erecting around that damned tent. She would have nightmares of being chased through a bloody battlefield and forced to watch her friends and family lying on the ground dying or dead.

Then, Bellatrix would shout, "Crucio!" and Hermione would not be sure where Bellatrix's cackles ended and her own screams began until she woke covered in a cold sweat and spent the rest of the night brewing Pepperup Potion to keep her going the next day.

"If only I could get a truly good night's sleep," she muttered to herself.

But then she remembered that she _had_ slept well only the day before. She could have kicked herself for forgetting. Of _course_! Snape's old quarters! A man as paranoid and careful as was had taken all of the precautions to make his room a safe place. Hermione had felt the runic wards brushing against her, learning her magical signature. She'd read about runic warding in her Ancient Runes classes. In the absence of their original master, they would learn the magical signature of the next witch or wizard to trip them, which meant that now, they should only let her enter without incident.

She retraced her steps and entered through the door as she had the day before, only this time with a quill and a formidable stack of student papers.

With a little charm work, she enlarged the narrow table to a respectable size, and Hermione was delighted to find that there were a number of food items in the tiny kitchen pantry that had been placed under a runic stasis charm field (which was built into the wood itself and had to have been obscenely expensive, but then again, that was typical for Slytherin House), and were therefore perfectly good to eat. Hermione was surprised at how _normal_ the food was. Well, except for the can of kippers. She most definitely wasn't a fan of fish unless it was breaded and fried and came with freshly made chips.

"Crooks would like them, though," she mused to herself, placing them into her bag to give to him later.

She made quick work of her grading and set out to look at the bookcases. As she'd suspected, there were plenty of books she'd never even heard of before in his secret collection. Eventually, she settled down on the rug by the fireplace with a book on magical aquatic life, as the merman from the day before had sprung into her mind and filled her with questions.

There were, she discovered, a number of species of water dwelling humanoids. Some were more humanoid than others, but Hermione could not find any references to the features she'd seen the day before, especially not the bioluminescent lights or the long human-like hair.

Hermione stood and stretched, then went to use the small toilet, grabbing the teaching robes she'd used as a blanket from the bed on the way back. They were overly large when spread over her and she inhaled the herbal scent with a happy sigh.

Why had she never noticed how heavenly the professor had smelled?

But then again, she also knew there was no way she would have been capable of seeing a teacher in a romantic way while she was a student. Her mind was fairly black and white on that subject, after all. Teachers were teachers and students were students. It would have been like trying to imagine her parents as children when she herself was a child. She most certainly could not see any of her own students in a romantic light. The thought was laughable.

Now, though, she was an adult. She had all manner of adult responsibilities. And besides, Severus Snape was dead. It wasn't as though he would need any of this stuff ever again. She stood and pulled out the journal, her fingers fondly stroking the soft leather.

"Severus," she tried, testing out how saying his first name sounded on her tongue. It still felt weird, and she could feel herself blushing slightly. Minerva, Fillius, Pomona, and even Argus were all second nature to her by this point, but saying Snape's first name still made her feel like she was doing something deliciously naughty. Though she would likely never admit it to anyone, the feeling was rather intoxicating.

With the book in hand, she allowed herself to doze by the fire and she began to dream much in the same manner as she had before. She watched Snape pacing the rug next to her before flopping heavily into the wingback chair and studying through a scroll that seemed to leave him in a worse mood after he had finished it. He threw it to the floor when he was finished.

She watched him bury his face in his hands and, after a long moment where his body went taut as his control finally shattered, heard his muffled sobs, and her heart broke for him.

When she woke, her cheeks were damp as though she too had been crying.

She stood and stretched, then dried her face with her sleeve. She was refreshed and filled with renewed energy, despite her depressing dream. He may have passed on, but that did not mean that Hermione could not put his belongings to good use and honor his memory. She _was_ the Potions professor, after all. And the room was technically connected to the classroom, which meant it was _basically_ hers. She looked longingly at the other books she had yet to read.

"I think that this will be my refuge, Severus," she whispered, still feeling rather silly. "What do you say to that?"

A movement made her turn and she let out a squeak of surprise as the merman appeared again. She tried very hard not to stare at his nudity, but it was somewhat hard to do, seeing as he was floating in the water at least five feet above her head. Without thinking, she waved at him uncertainly, only for him to mirror her hand movement with his webbed hand. She stared at him and he stared back, his head tilted slightly to the side as though asking a silent question. Then, he pointed to himself and then her and made a talking motion with his hand.

"Severus?" She whispered, feeling a thrill run through her. "Is that...your _name_?"

The merman turned in the water and nodded.

It was impossible. Her mind refused to believe that this...creature...had ever been human. It was silly to think...maybe she was just imagining things. For all she knew, he couldn't hear anything she said through the glass barrier.

Hermione was struck with a thought. Mermish in the open air sounded mostly like screams and awful chainsaw noises, but underwater, it was like a song. Maybe she could sing something to show him that she wanted to communicate. She opened her mouth and tried to remember the words for the school song.

"Hoggy hoggy Hogwarts! Teach us something, please!" She sang, then stopped. No, that wasn't quite right. And her voice sounded terrible.

But when she looked up to apologize, the merman was gone.

"Well, now, Hermione," she scolded herself, "Cocked that one up good and proper, didn't you? At least that what Professor...that's what _Severus_ would say."

Again, her cheeks flared with heat at saying his name aloud in an empty room, and she wondered if perhaps she was going a bit mad. Still, madness was preferable to eternally worsening nightmares.

She waited for a few minutes, but the merman didn't return. It was unbelievably cosy under the heavy teaching robes, and she dozed again for a bit, her dreams soft and featureless and peaceful.

When she woke, she stretched and checked her watch for the time. This time she hadn't slept through the evening meal. As she walked towards the Great Hall, she considered that perhaps there was another option.

* * *

 _I saw her again_ , Severus said, projecting his thoughts to Neffie, the merwoman who'd saved his life and become like a surrogate parent to him as time had gone on.

 _Did you, my child?_ She was busy cutting the fish for the evening meal in the air pocket built into the mer-folks' homes. She did not look at him. _And what do you think of her?_

 _She reminds me of someone I know. Knew. I'm not sure._ He fidgeted by her elbow.

 _And who, among the air-breathers would you know? You are dead to them now._ She pressed a wet strand of hair behind his long, feather-finned ears.

 _I don't fit in here. I am different from you. Just look at my hair, my skin. I am ugly. I cannot sing like the rest of your kind._ Severus' mind-voice was bitter, but he didn't care.

 _You are alive, Severus. Isn't that what you wanted? To live?_ She smiled a shark-like smile, and Severus sighed.

 _I can't remember why, Neffie. I know my name. I know I chose your boon of my own free will so that I could survive the fatal blow dealt to me. I can vaguely remember things about my past, but I don't even know why I wanted to live in the first place!_

 _The Gillyheart takes what it wishes when it gives your life back in new form. You know this, Severus. We have had this conversation many times._ Neffie began to remove the pin bones with her deft clawed fingers, then placed the gutted remains over the smouldering lava rocks to smoke. _Now scoot and find your brother. Supper is nearly finished._

Severus scowled, but he did as he was told.

 _Damnable mer-folk society and their damnable familial bonds,_ he thought to himself. Even though he was fully grown, he would still be treated like a child unless he chose a mate of his own and they built their own home under the waves, siphoning out an internal air-filled portion for cooking and sleeping, not to mention incubating and hatching young.

But Severus would never be able to do this, unlike his adopted brother Marlin, who was little more than a child but would, with the luck Severus tended to have, would probably find a mate first. Severus knew he was different. He was the only one with bright bioluminescent lights, for one. Even the Giant Squid listened to him when he flashed his light just so. Though he could communicate telepathically, he could not speak or sing, and he still looked far more human than any of the others. His legs allowed for him to move on land far more gracefully than the others as well.

He was lonely, and something told him that loneliness was something he'd known in his old life as well.

 _Perhaps I'm cursed_ , he thought, and this too seemed like a familiar sentiment.

He wallowed in his own angst for a time, then got bored and irritated at being unable to express it properly, for grindylows and fish were no great audience. He went to find Marlin. The fish would be done soon, and he'd be able to pretend that he was part of a family.

He could think about the mysterious girl later.

* * *

Hermione began to spend all of her free time in Snape's old chambers. In a fit of daring, she'd even begun to spend the night in the room, as she could fix herself something to eat in the morning instead of going to the Great Hall and still get to her classroom with plenty of time to spare. Even better, she didn't have to worry about being blindsided by Ron for most of the day. She was fairly certain that Minerva suspected that something fishy was up, but Hermione didn't particularly care. The cosy room in the dungeons had become her refuge, and she had another big secret.

 _Severus_.

Not the Severus Snape who'd died on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, (at least that's what she told herself), but seeing the gray merman was synonymous with being in Snape's old quarters, and as he was the only one to visit the large glass window, she'd come to refer to him as such to honor the late professor's memory. Besides, she told herself, she'd never known Professor Snape as _Severus_.

Still the mere thought of daring to call the man himself by his first name in her imagination as he glared down at her in his voluminous teaching robes was enough to make her face grow warm. But it still didn't answer the question of why the thought of a dead man who had been near insufferable in life affected her so profoundly.

She knew that part of it was the journal. She'd begun reading it, and had learned things about Severus Snape that spanned from his school years to the day before his death during the final battle. Though the volume was deceptively thin, the pages were charmed somehow to continue onward almost infinitely. She read about a plethora of new spell creations and potions techniques that she knew had been developed through much trial and error (if all the crossed-out bits had anything to say about it). He always made sure to cross them through with a single line so they were actually still legible, ostensibly so that he could still read what had been there before and avoid making the same mistake twice.

When she was finally back in the hustle and bustle of the castle, she sometimes thought that she must be cracking up, but how could she be going mad when she was at her most content in that secret place with Severus bobbing nearby in the greenish-black water?

 _Her Severus._

If she was being honest, that was how she had come to think of them both, to some extent. How she thought of the merman who kept her company in the darkness and the one she'd met in the journal. A sad boy, a troubled teen, and the repentant, self-hating man he'd become later. The journal was filled with the all of the raw and honest things that he'd held inside, and the ugly bits of himself that he'd been terrified that others would find out about him. For someone so proud and strict, it was obvious that he cared more about his image than he would ever admit.

Oddly enough, he rarely mentioned students, but his rants about Lucius Malfoy's meddling and Dumbledore's increasingly extreme expectations took up pages as the years went on. Though he was long gone, Hermione felt her pulse race as he described the Dark Lord's ruthlessness and Bellatrix's scheming.

In that final year, when she'd been on the run, she began to read through detailed descriptions of torture, wounds, and treatments that he would catalogue like some scientist doing objective work on something outside of himself. She noticed how his potion alterations began to take on a depressingly practical tone. Gone were the intricate spells that spoke to a sense of whimsy and wonder, or potion alterations done to change the color or taste without diluting the effects. Nearly all were charms to protect or strengthen shielding or potions to speed healing or undo dark curse residue more quickly.

She smiled sadly when she saw that he'd trimmed the article about him being appointed as Headmaster, along with a moving picture of him standing with his arms crossed and scowling. Though it was obvious that he did not relish his new position, there was a sense of pride in how he'd so carefully trimmed and attached it into the pages of the journal, then folded it in a careful manner so as not to bend the magical photo.

The professor had also drawn a detailed map of Hogwarts and folded it into the most recent page of the journal like a bookmark. It didn't show student locations like the Marauder's Map, but it did have a runic dial so that one could see the castle's floors individually overhead, or together in a three-dimensional side cut that remarkably didn't make her dizzy to look at it. There were little marks on various parts of the map, and Hermione learned that a page number would pop up when she tapped her wand on one. When she went to that page in the journal, she would see that a location was mentioned, and realized that Severus had catalogued every moment he'd spent in the castle, with the same level of meticulousness as he had applied towards the rest of his life.

Every night before she fell asleep, she would read another few entries in the journal, or go back and read one of her favorites (one of the entries she enjoyed most was from his third year where he wrote about how the thestral foals were so fond of him to the point that Hagrid had asked him to help feed them, since they were wary of adults. Severus had continued to feed the thestrals all the way up to his death).

And, when she finally slept, she would dream of the man himself and her heart would ache with longing to comfort him.

Hermione wondered if places could keep memories as well as a pensieve could. It wasn't as though the room was haunted. But the dreams were so realistic, that she felt as though she were stepping back in time to the moment they had occurred. Oddly enough, this did not disturb her, and as the weeks went on and she began sleeping there overnight in the long, severe bed with no-nonsense cotton sheets, (sheets that he'd lain upon if her dreams were any indication), and she slowly began to know the secret side of the irritable and secretive man.

She did not notice that each night, a silent visitor floated forlornly at the glass, his eyes shut tightly as he dreamed along with her.

* * *

 _How does she know my name?_ Severus transmitted his thoughts with an anxious grimace.

 _It is supper time, Severus. We can speak of this later._

 _I am_ _ **remembering**_ _things, Effie. You said that it would not be possible._

Effie patted her younger son on the smooth part of his head between the ridges of his fins. _Go and play with the kelpy colts._

 _Yes Mama. See ya, brother!_ Marlin squealed with happiness and scooted from the table and into the water.

She turned back to Severus with a look of frustration on her face. _You could have waited until Marlin was finished._

 _I've tried to talk to you about it. You've been avoiding me_. Severus crossed his arms and gave her a steady look.

 _I said that it was unusual._ Effie's gaze was steady as well. _**You**_ _are unusual. You saved your brother though you had no reason to do so, and in fact, humans rarely even give our kind a second glance. They think us...inferior._

 _What sort of human would turn away when a child was in need?_ Severus made a disgusted expression.

 _Not you, Severus. Which is why the Gillyheart gave you your wish. You wanted to live, but you also wanted forget your time on land. It is a cruel place for most, but your suffering was more than I have ever seen in my long, long life._

Severus shifted uncomfortably on the smooth marble stone where he sat. _The witch—this Hermione—she calls to me. When she comes to the room that overlooks our waters, I can hear her voice from across the Black Lake and from any depth. I cannot help but heed her call. She accepts me in this flawed form, and I feel as though she would accept me in any flawed form. I dream of myself as I was as a man. I dream of her dreaming of me. I can feel the weight of my old life upon me, but if it means having her there alongside me, I feel I could bear it. I want to impress her. I want...I want…_

Effie shook her head sadly. _Severus, this is dangerous. The gift of the Gillyheart does not give without limitations. You were saved when you were close to death and your boon was granted, but if you choose this path, I fear that you will find only death awaiting you._

 _But is this really a life?_ Severus pointed at his throat and tried to speak, the wretched sound of gurgling and hissing the only thing escaping his lips. _I cannot sing. I cannot speak. I cannot grow a fine silvery tail like yours. I can never fully be of your world._

 _Severus…_ Neffie's eyes were sad. _Do you truly hate the home you've made with us?_

Severus looked chastened. _It has been an honor to share your home and to have a mother's love and a brother's company when before I am certain that I had nothing but abuse and silence. But I must know. I must be true to myself._

Neffie gave him a long look and finally flashed him the barest bit of her sharky teeth, but it was half-hearted at best. _Fine, my son. If you truly wish it, I will give you the instructions to reverse it. But you must think on it for another two weeks until the moon is at its ripest and the wild magic is at its peak strength. I will tell you at that time, and you will decide which path to choose._

 _Thank you, Mother,_ Severus wrapped his arms around her and she did the same. He could not remember if his human mother had done so, but it didn't matter. Neffie was a good mother and if it were merely a decision between being a family or being alone, he would not have hesitated to stay in the calm beneath the waves.

 _I will always be here for you, Severus, no matter what form you take. Of that you must always be certain._ Neffie ruffled his hair. _Before_ , _I never knew why the land dwellers had such an interest in this hair stuff, but I think I am starting to understand it._

Severus closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure what she loved more; her secret room, the rare books, or seeing Severus.

Each time she found her way down to the secret room, he returned to her side to keep her company. He seemed to show up particularly quickly when she was reading aloud from the book she'd chosen from the library that night. Sometimes, she would mark papers and read aloud from the worst parts and make snarky comments. He would wrap his arms around his torso, throw his head back, and silently snicker until he was floating upside down when she said something particularly scathing.

When she was finished with her work, he would grow playful and often did acrobatic maneuvers as she watched. At the completion of each of these feats, he'd float vertically in the water and take a stately bow, millions of tiny bubbles fizzing up the sides of his head and making his hair whip around in the water. At first she felt bad for clapping as though she were the audience for a performing seal and tried to avoid doing so out of respect, but then he crossed his arms and scowled at her and she took the hint. His mouth turned up in a smirk when she gave him a round of applause and tried her hand at whistling through her teeth.

She made a habit of speaking aloud when she was in the room, even though the conversation was entirely one-sided. Sometimes he would point or gesture to make her re-read a section or tap on the glass to get her attention, but Hermione knew that this communication was rudimentary at best. And, in true Hermione fashion, she wanted to do better.

She owled Harry with a request to pick up a book on sign language from a Muggle shop, since he was her only friend who would have a remote idea of how to do such a thing. She tried to tell herself that it would be more efficient to do this, that asking for a day off on a weekend would keep her away from her many duties and she'd be too far behind when she returned.

She did not allow herself to think of the crowds and the stares and the sensation of paranoia that crept up her neck whenever she ventured out into public spaces, or the panic that, when left unchecked, made her freeze and go catatonic. Ron had told her to just get over it. She'd tried. She'd brewed so many Calming Draughts that she'd built up a tolerance to them. She was ashamed to admit it, but being with Ron meant being dragged into the limelight because he loved it. He soaked up the praise and the looks and the hushed whispers. Hermione, on the other hand, just wanted to be left alone. She hadn't helped Harry defeat Voldemort for praise or attention. She'd done the right thing because it had to be done. She'd been hurt, and she was still healing, even though most of the wounds she'd received weren't physical.

The book on sign language was fascinating. Hermione wasn't a natural at it, but she set her mind to it and memorized as many phrases and words as she could. Then, she duplicated the book and charmed it waterproof. One night she signed to him.

 _Book_ , she signed, pointing to the book.

Slowly, he mirrored her sign. _Book._

Hermione beamed. "Excellent!" she said aloud. Then, she held up a quill pen. _Pen_ , she signed.

He mirrored her sign yet again, and Hermione's heart soared. Perhaps he _could_ learn! Unfortunately, most books on the subject seemed to be doubtful of the merfolks' intelligence to be much higher than that of a grindylow.

They got through a half dozen object signs that first night, and Hermione even quizzed him by showing him objects without the accompanying sign. He did beautifully on every single one except for the quill, which for some reason he signed as _bird_.

"Well, I suppose it is made with a feather," Hermione admitted.

His expression was a half-scowl of concentration, and he finally signed _pen_.

Then, he arched one eyebrow as he looked at the book, and something in Hermione's throat caught momentarily as she felt a sense of deja vu. She bit her lip and tried to dismiss the thought that had risen in her mind. Severus was just the name she'd _given_ the merman. He wasn't actually—she couldn't bear to finish that thought or she was sure it would mean she really _was_ going mad.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and steeled herself. The next part of her plan would be trickier, but she had to try. Trying was something Hermione was well-versed in, after all, even if things didn't always go according to plan.

She placed her hand against the glass, and Severus mirrored her movements, placing his webbed hand over hers as usual.

Hermione was not gifted in Legilimency. She was competent at the basics, but it was one of those magical abilities that seemed to require one to be a natural at it in order to become anywhere approaching proficient at it. Still, Hermione knew how to send mental images using a slightly less advanced spell. She'd been practicing with Luna, who was covering Care of Magical Creatures for the year in order to save up for the year-long expedition she had planned the following summer.

"The Tibetan Cloud Monks speak almost entirely in mind pictures and don't mind it if you leave the line of communication open, but sending a clear picture can be hard without a lot of training and meditation," Luna had said with a dreamy expression. "For the purpose of today's exercise, though, you must make sure to close the channel of communication, or you risk sending unintended messages. This is especially easy to forget when you have a Wrackspurt infestation like the one you have, Hermione. You ought to get that looked at."

Hermione disagreed about the Wrackspurts, but she was used to agreeing to disagree when it came to Luna's ridiculous invisible creatures. Needless to say, she'd been rather irritated when Luna had needed to remind her to close the mind link when they were done for the afternoon.

"Well, here goes nothing," she muttered as she drew her wand with her free hand, "Please, let this work."

Severus flinched, his free hand going to his side as though searching for a pocket that wasn't there, then he blinked confusedly and looked back up at her questioningly _._

Hermione took a deep breath. " _Mentipicitus_."

The wand motion for the spell was a simple circle around the head and a quick slash up then forward towards the recipient. This created a glowing beam of light that would ideally connect the sender with the recipient. Of course, the hardest part about the spell was making sure to focus one's thoughts upon the intended image. Hermione had accidentally shown Luna a few thoughts that she wished she hadn't, but Luna was (very thankfully) not the sort to judge. Hermione had never tried casting it through glass, but she figured that the worst that could happen would be that it wouldn't work at all.

Besides, she knew that magic was more about willing something to be true than anything else. It wasn't precise wand motions that had saved her life when Death Eaters had tried to end it. It wasn't magic words that kept them safe all those months on the run. It was her heart, her mind, her _soul_ , and it burned with the desire to make the impossible a reality.

She pictured the docks near the boat house where the first years would be led up to the castle with as much detail as she could. She imagined the gentle lapping of the waves against slimy, algae-covered wooden hulls. She could hear the occasional sound of wood against wood as the boats bumped into one another, then moved apart again. She imagined the tall, flat rock to the side of the dock, the one she'd seen many times before on her walks on the castle grounds as a student. It was fuzzier than she'd have liked, for she didn't dare venture out of the school often anymore, but she could see it in the dim light of the torches in her mind's eye. Then, she placed a book, the very book that she was holding in her hands, on that rock. She imagined the half moon in the sky, halfway set over the Forbidden Forest. It was the best she could think of to tell him what time to expect her. She replayed the image three times until the pressure in her skull built to a painful roar.

She opened her eyes, seeing double, hoping desperately that he'd understood.

His eyes were on her, intense and dark.

 _Book,_ he signed. _Book, rock, night._

He pointed at her wand, then at his head, then repeated the signs over again and Hermione's eyes stung with relief.

 _Thank you,_ she signed, covering her heart with both hands, hoping that it conveyed her happiness.

He mirrored the motion, then moved forward and pressed his lips to the glass at chest level to her, his gaze unwavering and intense the entire time, and Hermione felt something shift in her heart and echo through her core.

Later, when the merman had gone, she sat nude on the corner of the bed, with the professor's soft, black robes draped over her shoulders. Her body was so filled with tension and unresolved frustration that she furiously rubbed herself to completion while thinking of the merman floating magically above her and tweaking her nipples with frozen fingers and kissing her with cool lips while the Professor spooned her from behind and whispered hot and needy things into her ear.

She came, gasping with her head thrown back and her eyes unfocused, the scent of her musk filling the small room, and fell into a dreamless sleep not soon after.

She did not see the fire burning in the eyes of the merman who'd returned to watch her in the darkness, his mind filled with the images she'd projected to him as loudly as if she'd shouted them across a room.

* * *

 _There is a link between us, Mother,_ he said, his mindspeak unsure and halting. _I am more sure than ever that she feels as I do for her._

Effie reached out and grasped his webbed hand in hers. _If you are indeed as linked as you say, then have you used your telepathy to tell her this?_

Severus looked away, his hair floating over his eyes. _She cannot hear me. I believe it must be something to do with how my thought speak travels in the water or reflects off of the glass barrier._

 _Or magic, perhaps? How about fate?_ Effie's mind voice was somewhat smug, and her grin was razor sharp.

 _She is teaching me hand language,_ Severus replied. _This means book, and this means pen. There are many words that I have yet to learn._

Effie looked at the hand signs curiously and then copied them herself. _How curious. I should like to learn more of these signs._

 _She has a book. It does not look like a wizard's book. I believe it is published by the non-magical humans. She says she will give it to me tomorrow._ Severus smiled shyly, proud to have impressed her.

 _If it can be kept underwater safely, then it may indeed be a boon to our kind, Severus. Perhaps even the chieftain will take an interest._ Effie playfully dove under Severus, spinning in slow circles around him with a lazy flick of her tail.

 _There may not be time for me to secure an audience with her. The full moon will be here soon, Mother._ Severus' feathery finned ears flattened down against his head. _My intentions have not changed. If anything, I feel more strongly than ever._

 _I see, my son._ Effie's expression was gentle but sad. _Then you must hurry and learn how to tell the human of the choice you must make when the moon is at its peak._

Severus could feel his heart beating frantically as he remembered the things that she had fantasized, her mind open to him like a book in its own right. He'd seen echoes of himself, and in each form, she had cared for, loved, and _wanted_ him. A monster. If his dreams had anything to say about it, his past actions had rendered him a monster in more than one way, even when he had been human.

But later, when he was alone again, a nasty, doubting voice filled his head _. Will she really want you when you are no longer a mere fantasy? Will you even survive long enough to tell her how you feel and who you really are? And more importantly, do you even deserve the chance?_

* * *

Hermione had chosen the evening she planned to be out of the castle very carefully. From a couple of tense encounters earlier that month, she knew that Ron had become increasingly obsessed with patrolling, especially if he knew she was doing an assigned patrol that night. He behaved cordially with her, but there was an undercurrent of dogged determination that gave Hermione the sinking sensation that he was trying to wear her down. Each time they met, he was inviting her places, or worse, offering her things, which she politely declined each time.

She had to give him some credit for keeping his temper (for the old Ron she'd grown up with would have burst out in an angry tirade almost immediately), but the way his eyes had flashed when she told him no, no matter how gently she did it, made her feel deeply unsettled.

"Don't look at me like that," he'd said the last time they'd spoken, his voice somehow both hurt and angry.

"Like what?" She'd known exactly what, but she'd feigned ignorance anyway.

"Like I'm going to hurt you. I'm not the bad guy, Hermione," Ron replied shortly. "It's just tea at Hogsmeade on a Saturday."

"And I love tea! Really I do!" Hermione had insisted. "It's just…"

"You don't want to be seen in public," Ron replied glumly. "With me."

"No, it's not—"

"You know, one of these days, I'm going to stop asking," Ron said, and Hermione could tell that he meant to frighten her with the thought of him giving up on her. "And then where will you be? Alone with your books? Alone with your smelly potions in the dungeons like the Greasy Git before you?"

"Don't talk about Severus that way!" Hermione had replied before she could stop herself.

Ron's mouth had turned down in disgust. "Hmph. _Severus_ is it? You barely call me by my first name anymore, yet speak of a dead man who treated you like garbage as though he were an old friend? I know how Harry feels about that man because of his mum and all, but I always thought you'd be the logical one. I guess I was wrong. Now, excuse me, but I have some patrolling to do."

He'd run off so quickly that Hermione was still attempting to process the fact that she'd said _Severus_ aloud to someone other than herself. And, worse than _that_ , it had been _Ron_. Hermione felt a stab of guilt for not being as forthright as she normally was with pretty much everyone. It almost felt as though she'd admitted to a great secret to an enemy even though Ron hadn't even touched her or overtly threatened her. All he could really be guilty of was being persistent.

Still, long after he was gone, Hermione felt on edge for the rest of her patrol with the sensation that Ron might appear at any moment and offer something more dangerous than a few unpleasant words. Later, when she wrapped herself up in Severus' old robes, breathing in the lingering scent of a man who was still more of an enigma than she wanted to admit, she began to feel a creeping sense that maybe she really _was_ the problem.

Hermione had also begun to suspect that someone (i.e. Ron) had been breaking into her office and her classroom, though she had no clear evidence that it was him. She'd found things on her desk when she could have sworn they were stored in cupboards, or items rearranged in her stores. Her normally impeccable inventory was off, which could be attributed to sloppy student help, but her honors students were normally so meticulous.

Hermione had petitioned the headmistress to come up with some sort of diversion to keep Ron from bothering Hermione for the evening. "I'll have him supervise the detentions in the Great Hall this evening," Minerva said with a smirk when Hermione had explained her troubles with Ron. "Besides, he has to supervise the children at Hogsmeade the next morning, so he'll want to get an early evening."

Hermione wasn't so sure about that, but that simply meant that she couldn't linger. She didn't want to do so anyway, as the longer she was out of doors, the more panicky and stressed she tended to get. She'd worked herself into a shaking, crying meltdown at one of the Ministry functions she'd been forced to attend and Harry had only barely steered her out of the room in time.

She felt like she was simply going through the motions in each class, and the clock seemed to hardly move the whole day. By the time classes were over, Hermione was frustrated and full of nervous energy. She locked the door to her classroom and stole away to Snape's quarters, her body as tight as a wire. She lay down onto the rug with Severus' old robes spread out underneath her, pulled her skirt up, and slipped her fingers under her knickers, her mind focused on an incredibly inappropriate fantasy that had been on her mind all morning. When a shadow passed over her, it took her a few moments to react and when she finally glanced up, she saw a very curious-looking merman staring down at her.

"Eeep!" Hermione froze and her face went scarlet at having been caught. How could she have been stupid enough to forget? She scrambled to put herself back to rights, even as she noticed the intensity of his gaze upon her.

 _No, that's not possible. You're being silly, Hermione. Surely he's got...a mermaid girlfriend or something. He probably doesn't even know what I was doing._

Still, as she rushed to re-fasten her buttons, she noticed how his mottled gray skin had gone a bright bluish green. She'd never seen this particular display before, and even he seemed surprised by it. He held up his webbed hands and stared at them, then looked back at her with an expression of incredulity.

"You're...beautiful…" she said softly, moving closer to the glass.

He floated closer to her, his bioluminescence making her skin glow softly. Slowly, he placed his hand over his chest. Then, his hand began to sink lower, and lower, until...

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. Surely...no, surely she was simply misunderstanding.

She was staring, transfixed, as his fingers began to caress the scales on his lower abdomen when Minerva's patronus flew through the wall much as it had all those weeks ago, and Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Hermione," the glowing tabby said, her tone very serious, "We have a problem. I can't find Mr. Weasley."

* * *

Ron Weasley had been in the business of causing trouble (or at least in close enough proximity to it) long enough to know when someone was up to something.

Hermione was definitely up to something, and Ron didn't like it one bit. It used to be that they had been best friends. Sure, they fought like cats and dogs, but they'd trusted each other and helped each other and never given up on one another. Hermione had been scarred by the war in more than one way. So had he. So had they all. But they'd been lucky enough to survive and now was the time for thriving, not hiding away. Hermione was prone to being a shut-in on a good day and Ron knew it would do her no good to encourage this. He'd been trying for months to unsuccessfully bring her out of her shell, but she'd done her damnedest to foil his attempts.

It didn't hurt that she was still easy on the eyes when she wanted to be and Ron was always up for a challenge.

The problem, then, was how to find her. Hermione had gotten particularly good at evading him, and even worse was that when he set out to find her, he quickly found himself stymied. The entire reason he'd gotten Harry to assign him to Hogwarts was so that he could get Hermione back. Well, that and finding Snape's old quarters. According to Harry, it had simply disappeared, and might be full of all manner of Dark magical objects that should be catalogued or destroyed.

Preferably destroyed out back behind the Auror's Department building with the lads after a few rounds of ale.

After Hermione had treated his offer to visit Hogsmeade like chopped liver and actually said the Greasy Git's name aloud (in a _fond_ _manner_ no less!), Ron was getting to the point where he was beginning to believe that Hermione had encountered some sort of Dark object in Snape's old office or his classroom to make her act so oddly. He'd already gone through both places while looking for her, but had never spent the time to really sift through everything looking for Dark objects. Here too, he found both rooms oddly empty of Hermione (which made them easy to sneak into for extended periods of time), and when he staked out her quarters under the Invisibility Cloak, he found she didn't often return there.

For awhile, Ron was convinced that she had a secret lover, but when he could find no evidence, he discounted that possibility.

Hermione was playing coy, but Ron was sure that he knew what was best for her. She just had to be shown how fun and enjoyable it was to spend time with him, and maybe then their friendship and romantic relationship would finally have the chance regrow.

He thought of what it would be like to marry her, to see her swell with his child, to wave to their children as they boarded the Hogwarts Express when they were old enough to go.

It would be a fine life, a life for the history books.

He'd gotten Stebbins to proctor for the detention. He could smell a diversion a mile away, and his bullshit detector could tell that the Headmistress had been trying to ensure he was indisposed for the evening.

"And, if Hermione isn't willing to take that first step, maybe it's up to me to be the man and do it for her," Ron muttered to himself as he slipped the Invisibility Cloak over his shoulders.

After all, the Weasley family was known for being incredibly fertile and accidents _were_ known to happen.

* * *

Hermione made her way back to the Potions classroom with a sense of unease boiling in her belly. The charmed sign language book was stowed away in her robes, but she'd been careful to stow Severus' journal in the hidden book compartment back in her secret room. She'd taken to carrying it around in her robes at all times and sneaking readings of it when she was alone, but something told her that this would be a bad idea to keep it with her tonight.

The sun had nearly set over the horizon and the moon was beginning to rise. Regardless of her feelings on the subject of Ron's disappearance, Hermione knew that she couldn't waste much time or she would miss her rendezvous.

Part of her wondered if she was being far too nitpicky, but she quickly reminded herself that there were all manner of magical and non-magical creatures out by the Black Lake that would find an unattended book to be an exciting plaything.

She and Minerva searched for an hour without finding him, they finally gave up.

"I'm not about to make you search all night for him," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Perhaps he had to report back to Auror headquarters unexpectedly."

"Hmph," Minerva sniffed, "Who wants to bet that he merely got out of detention duty so that he could go out somewhere and goof off? I'm not sure what you ever saw in that lazy boy. He's not particularly bright, but he could have been in the upper ten percent if he'd only applied himself."

"It's funny," Hermione replied, "but even though I could honestly never see myself with Ron romantically again, I still think highly of him, and I'd dearly love to be close friends again someday. But I just can't take the chance that he'll think that my kindness means that I'll include...well... _everything_. I can't give that to him, and I can't risk breaking our friendship forever. I just can't."

"And no wonder!" Minerva said slyly, her lips curling in a catlike grin. "You may not have said a word about it, but I know you. I hope you don't mind my audacity in asking, and you may feel free to completely disregard my request, but who is it, then? Who has stolen your heart?"

Hermione thought back to the look on Severus' face when he'd seen...her...doing... _that_. She thought of how she'd begun to think of the mysterious merman and the professor in the journal as one and the same, no matter how mad the thought actually was when she actually allowed herself to think it.

"Your face is practically vermillion, dear girl, and I shall take your silence to mean that you're not ready to say." Minerva clucked her tongue and glanced at her head in a nostalgic manner that made Hermione think that she'd been in a similar situation at some point, then curled down into her silver tabby form and padded back towards the stairs to the Headmistress' office with her tail held high.

Hermione was left in the darkened hallway, her heart hammering in her ears, wondering if Minerva would be nearly so copacetic if she knew the truth.

* * *

Ron had hung back while Hermione and the Headmistress had been talking. He'd nearly thrown the Cloak off and run to her, telling her that she didn't know what she was talking about, that he wasn't like that, he just knew her better than she knew herself, that she was being silly, she just needed more time…

But then he'd seen Hermione's face. Heard those words…

 _There's someone else…_

And then, Ron knew down to the soles of his boots that _this_ was the true reason for why they'd tried to ensure he was indisposed.

He watched Hermione standing in the darkened hallway, her expression lost in thought, and he wondered what she would do if he came up behind her, placed his arms around her, and began whispering hot things in her ear. But the thought of her betrayed and horrified face, the disgust when she realized it was not her mystery lover but Ron Weasley, the boy she'd always overlooked until the end, gave him pause. No. He would not confront her here. He'd follow her and see them together and then he would know if it truly was a lost cause.

He gripped his wand tightly in his fist as he turned to follow her down the stairs.

Of course, if it came to it, there were plenty of things that an Auror could be justified in doing with his wand.

And, _well_ , if someone happened to _resist_ and ended up seriously injured or dead, there were plenty of ways for a war hero to avoid consequences.

Ron's smile was sharp and did not reach his eyes.

* * *

Hermione kept turning to look behind her, but she didn't see another living soul on her way down to the lake. There were, of course, the paintings tittering inanely in the hallways, and the ghosts flying too and fro. Even though Hermione had been part of the Wizarding World for many years, she still hated when Nearly Headless Nick accidentally flew through any part of her body. He was the worst offender because he rarely ever looked where he was going. A shrouded womanly figure barreled through one of the walls and Hermione had to jump out of the way to avoid her. Part of the ghost's transparent burial shroud passed through one of her ankles and she grimaced. Touching a ghost always left her with a cold and unpleasant slimy sensation that made her shiver.

Still, she continually had the odd feeling that she was being followed, and she doubled back through the hedges in the outer gardens using only the moonlight to find her way. She could have sworn she heard someone curse, but then the wind picked up again and the light was nowhere good enough for her to see much of anything.

The book in her pocket kept knocking against her thigh in a steady rhythm, and Hermione doubled her resolve to get to the appointed place before the moon began to set. She cursed herself for spending so much time looking for Ron. For all she knew, he was off at Hogsmeade telling a gaggle of winsome witches one of his "war stories" that glorified his actions and minimized the number of times he'd screamed like a girl. The part where he'd abandoned both of his friends would, of course, never see the light of day.

"What am I even thinking about? That's all over and done," she muttered to herself. The best part about walking around at night was that her feelings of agoraphobia didn't threaten to send her into a panic attack. The darkness made her feel cozy, protected. Logically, she knew that this was more of a delusion than a reality, but her body was far more relaxed with the cold night air kissing her skin than anytime during the day.

Still, she kept her hand on her wand in case anything unfriendly popped out at her

She needn't have worried.

When she finally reached the docks, the moon had only barely begun to set. The cold water of the Black Lake lapped softly against the mossy planks of the wooden support beams, and Hermione stopped to look up at the blanket of night sky above her. Somehow, the stars seemed close enough to touch, though she knew that wasn't possible.

A noise drew her attention at the water, and Hermione froze. Even with her limited vision, she knew the shape of Severus even as he neared the surface of the water. His bioluminescent lights pulsed with a rhythm that she recognized as happiness, excitement.

He was _glad_ to see her!

The thought fluttered inside of her chest in a wholly inappropriate way, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from staring. He pulled himself up onto the edge of the dock and hung with half of his body still submerged, then looked up at her with his wide, dark eyes, his hair limp and lank against his head.

"Severus! I'm so glad you came," Hermione said, making sure to speak more softly when he winced at the volume of her voice.

She bent down on one knee, facing him, and retrieved the book from her pocket.

A soft rustle behind her made Severus's attention focus on something behind her, but before she could turn her head to look, something painful and sharp had hit her in the back and she was falling forward, her vision growing dim. The book flew forward and slipped into the water with a splash, and she felt as though she was reaching towards him in slow motion as he was hit with a bright red flash of light and instead of falling back into the water, his mouth pulled back in an inhuman snarl of long, sharp teeth and she could feel the force of his movement as he lunged over her—

And then, Hermione knew only darkness.

* * *

Severus couldn't see the intruder who had so cowardly hit Hermione in the back with a spell, but he could smell them. The book fell into the water, but he had other priorities. He wanted to tell her...something. But his ruined body would never allow him to do so anyway. As a jet of red light hit him, he was suddenly enraged. How dare this unknown assailant harm Hermione and keep him from meeting her without a pane of glass to separate them? How dare they try to hit him with a spell like some dumb beast? How dare they?

Severus vaguely realized that the lights on his body had begun to glow a seething red, and a sudden surge of rage filled his body. He practically flew over Hermione, his nose sniffing out his invisible foe.

Ah! There! He turned, abruptly, his eyes narrowed and full of hate. He could not make a single sound, but he knew that his jaw, as wide and toothy as it was, would be horrifying enough in the light of the half-moon. His fins rose and shook threateningly, making a wet rattling noise that seemed to unsettle the intruder, who began to smell fearful.

Severus glanced back at the form of Hermione lying face down on the dock. If he could incapacitate the man, for it smelled musky like a human male, then she would be freed.

His sharp fingers curled into claws and he advanced quickly upon the man, who threw off a cloak of some sort at the last minute and hit Severus full-force in the chest with some sort of implement that quickly covered him with three layers of incredibly strong netting. He tried to bite through it to no avail, his mouth opened in a snarl silent frustration.

A freckled face looked down at him with disdainful eyes and a sharp kick to his ribs made him go all fuzzy in his head.

"Looks like I caught myself a little freak, didn't I?" Ron said with a sneer. "Say, you don't look like the rest of the fish fucks that live in the lake. Looks like you were about to assault that pretty lady, and you know that I just can't help but spring into action when I see people in trouble. You are Trouble with a capital T. If you think that I would let you place one slimy finger on my Mione, you've got quite another thing coming. And hey, if nothing else, the boys down at the Department of Mysteries will love taking you apart to find out what makes you tick."

Severus struggled, trying desperately to free himself, and one of his nails snagged on a part of the net and was able to cut through one of the threads. Ron looked furious at this and pressed a button. Something flared to life with a sizzling whine and Severus knew only pain and the searing shock of electricity running through his body. He jerked violently, his mouth opened in a soundless gasping scream, before going still.

Ron kicked him again, but checked to make sure that the creature's chest was rising and falling.

"Wouldn't want you to die on us so quickly," he said, his smile grim. "After all, we're just getting started."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note** : When it rains it pours.

All the beta love to Corvus Draconis and Hollowg1rl!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Dreams and Reality**

Hermione woke with a cry and sat bolt upright. The first thing she noticed was that she was lying in a bed with rather scratchy linen sheets. It was dark around her and for a moment she felt an acute sense of disorientation. A familiar scent filled her nostrils and as her sleep-encrusted eyes adjusted to the low light in the room, she saw the tall privacy sheets of the Hogwarts Infirmary and visibly relaxed. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her head that she was forgetting something, but it felt fuzzy and sore, like a troupe of gnomes had climbed into her head and did a bit of step-dancing on her brain. She looked over at the small table next to the bed and gratefully grabbed the glass of water that lay there. It was refreshingly cool on her scratchy throat. Her wand was under her pillow and Hermione smiled a bit sadly. Poppy would have known it would comfort her. With that, Hermione kicked off the sheets and looked down at herself. She was wearing the formless Infirmary robes, which were as scratchy as the sheets were, and she wondered just what had happened.

"Poppy?" she whispered, putting her head through the opening in the sheet.

The matron was nowhere to be found, but the infirmary was blessedly empty, and Hermione could see that there was a lively glow coming from the nurse's station at the end of the hall. Hermione padded in her bare feet towards the glowing room when she heard someone clear their throat behind her and she jumped, her wand already in her hand.

"Hello, Mione," Ron said softly, stepping slowly out of the shadows.

"Ron?! You scared me!" Hermione hissed, keeping her voice down, even though she knew there was no need to do so. "I nearly hexed your bits off!"

"Now, is that any way to thank your rescuer?" Ron asked, crossing his arms. His expression was cooly neutral, which puzzled Hermione. "I happened to see you sleepwalking out near the Black Lake. You nearly fell in when a creature... _something_ tried to grab you."

"Really? What was it?" Hermione asked. Her mind swam with confusion and fuzziness as she tried to remember. "A grindylow, perhaps?"

"It's not important what it was," Ron said, his voice continuing in the same, smooth monotone as before. "Just know that I have your best interests at heart."

"My...best interests?" Hermione blinked. There was something odd in his voice...something... _relaxing_.

"You've been suffering for so long, Mione, trying to take everything on by yourself. You don't have to do that anymore," Ron said, stepping forward enough to wrap his fingers around one of her arms.

Hermione's skin crawled underneath his touch, but she was still dazed and filled with the fog of confusion, and she was momentarily frozen, her wand pointed at the floor.

"Mione, I've been waiting so long for this—waited so long to finally be your hero. I want you to understand that this is for your own good," he continued softly, tipping her chin up with his fingers and kissing her. Hermione's eyes widened with sudden fear, but he pressed a bitter substance into her mouth and she choked it down, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

She fell heavily against him and he picked her up with little effort, carrying her back to her bed. He tucked her in carefully and kissed her on the forehead. Hermione shifted in her sleep and moaned softly in distress.

"Now," he said, pointing his wand at her head. "Where was I? Oh, yes. _Obliviate_."

* * *

Severus lay motionless in the claustrophobic trunk the red-haired man had half-assedly filled with water. He'd sapped most of his strength trying to escape the bonds of the magical netting that covered his body. Also, while he could breathe air, it was similar to the effort required of a mountain climber in high altitudes. The combination of his earlier struggles and the spell cast upon him, as well as his rough handling in general had sapped his strength. Instead, Severus thought. He thought about Hermione. He thought about the book. He thought about Neffie and her son...his... _brother_. Severus knew that, regardless of blood or species or origin, the two of them were more family than he'd ever had. Though his memories of his past were still fuzzy, there was a _rightness_ to that thought that he could never question.

Neffie had always told him that his lack of memories was a gift, not a curse, but Severus was forever trying to wheedle information out of her. She seemed completely willing to trust the effects of the Gillyheart, but Severus simply couldn't help but be suspicious about everything, even if he had been given no reason to do so.

"You will understand it, my child," Neffie would say, clucking her tongue and ruffling his hair.

Sometimes he felt like such a child, and he wanted desperately to be taken seriously. Other times, he relished being fussed over. Not having to be responsible for anything truly _was_ an intoxicating feeling, after all.

'What is the point of even thinking about any of this? Neffie isn't going to conveniently appear to get me out of this predicament,' he thought irritably to himself.'

 _Severus_.

He knew that voice. _Hermione_. But where was she? Despite his exhaustion, he struggled futilely against his bonds, twisting his head to try and see her.

Her voice rang out and he realized that it was all in his head. 'Goddamnit. Now I'm hearing things. Damn lack of properly oxygenated water is making me hallucinate.'

 _Severus, where are you? It's so dark here._

That didn't sound like a hallucination. Severus cursed himself for being a sentimental fool, but he closed his eyes and struggled to concentrate on the voice. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could see Hermione floating above him. It was as though she were suspended in water, and her robes floated around her slowly. He longed to swim up to her, to wrap his arms around her, but he could not seem to control his body. As he watched in his mind's eye, a thick, red-hot iron shackle appeared around her neck. She screamed trying futilely to escape it, her fingers smoking as she tried to pull it off. Severus cried out, but even in his head he was silent. But then, he pushed off the ground and into the air, his fingers finding hers. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair gently as she twitched and moaned in pain.

Severus growled in his mind, and his teeth were bared where he lay in his odd half-sleep. The bastard was _hurting_ her.

He would find a way, _any_ way, to make him pay.

"Shh, shh," he whispered in his mind-voice, and then, before he even consciously realized he was doing it, he began to hum an old lullaby that his mum had sung to him when he was very little. He'd never tried singing in his own head; there was no joyous reason to try. His ugliness, his difference from the others, his lack of a true voice were all the more reason for him to hide, to be silent, to keep from embarrassing himself in front of anyone.

He did not notice how his bioluminescent lights had begun to glow golden, or how the burned flesh on Hermione's neck and hands had begun to heal. And even if he had, he would not have believed it, for this was all happening in his mind, and he could not trust how real it truly was. Hermione let out a tiny breath against his shoulder and snuggled closer into his embrace.

 _Severus, I don't have much time left. He's forcing me to forget you. Please, promise me that you won't forget me. I'm sorry...I can't...stay…_

Severus tried to keep hold of her, but her body began to grow translucent and soon she had disappeared, leaving him floating alone in the darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he threw his head back and let out a silent howl of despair and fury. His eyes ached with unshed tears and he cursed his lack of humanity once more.

* * *

Hermione spent two nights in the Infirmary, each night receiving a secret visit from Ron. Something...changed, though she couldn't put her finger on the exact reason why. Hermione found herself wanting to give him another chance to prove himself. He'd saved her from certain doom, after all. Even though she couldn't rightly recall the event, Poppy assured her that with certain trauma, it was very common to forget the specifics, and Hermione had a very nasty sensation of dread every time she tried to remember. In fact, when she was finally released, she was loath to be alone in her quarters.

"Come on, Mione," Ron said, smiling at her in that cheeky way of his. "You can sleep in my quarters tonight. I'll stay on the couch like a gentleman, and if you want, I'll even sleep on the floor and we can hold hands like old times."

Hermione thought back to the war. How many times had they slept in the same room, mustering as much comfort as they could by entwining their fingers?

"You have to promise," she croaked. "No funny business."

"I Solemnly Swear." Ron stuck out his pinky and she took it with a nostalgic smile.

Thanks, Ron," she said, coughing to clear her throat. "My voice feels...weird."

Ron smiled back. "I hope you're not coming down with something, Mione. You have to take better care of yourself."

"Of course," Hermione said, her eyes getting a strange far away look for a moment. Then she was back, and she looked a little lost. "I..um...I need to go to my quarters to pack some things."

"Hurry on back," Ron said, waving, "I've got a few things to attend to as well, so I will see you soon."

* * *

Ron opened the trunk he'd stuffed the merman into and snarled with fury. "Get up, you _filthy_ thing!"

The creature did not move, not even when he kicked the trunk, but it did make a pathetic gasping noise. It was obvious that if everything stayed as it was, it wouldn't survive long enough for Ron to get it over to the Department of Mysteries. Word was that the Ministry would pay good galleons to whoever could bring unique specimens in for testing.

"Dammit!" Ron shouted, slamming the lid down and locking it with a swoop of his wand.

He needed someone who could help him keep this thing alive until he could requisition a portkey to the Ministry from the office, because there was no way he was spending his own hard-earned galleons. As he racked his brain, a name suddenly came to him and he slammed his fist into his open palm. "Ah, yes! Perfect!"

He turned and ran from his room with an air of purpose in his steps.

* * *

"Luna," Ron said, smirking as the blonde woman flinched a little at the sensation of his touch on her shoulder. Knowing her, she probably thought he was a Nargle or something ridiculous like that, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Hello, Ron," Luna replied, her voice cool, "I would imagine that it should be perfectly logical to find me here. It is, after all, my office."

"It's a _stable_ , Luna," Ron replied dismissively.

This was true. The little office was built into the side of the unicorn stables, which thankfully didn't stink nearly as much as any other magical creatures quarters on the castle grounds. There was some truth to the oft-held belief that unicorns farted glitter and pooped frosting, though even Ron's legendary stomach did not hunger for such things.

"Oh Ron, Ron, Ron," Luna said, clicking her tongue at him softly as she stepped down from the flowery rope swing she'd hung to the ceiling beams that was suspended over a tiny indoor garden of miniaturized plants. "It is so much more than that, and you know it."

She moved quickly around her desk and sat down on a beanbag chair that Ron vaguely remembered Harry had given her one Christmas. In fact, as he looked around her office, he could see her handiwork everywhere. From the hand-painted ceiling mural to the walls covered in fantastical paintings of creatures Ron did not know the names of (nor cared to learn), the entire place was like another world, even though it looked rather plain from the outside.

'Much like Luna herself,' Ron thought, unimpressed by the paint stains on Luna's sleeves. He came to stand across from her and suppressed a smirk when he loomed over her. Besides, no matter what he might think of Luna's looks, he knew she was highly competent, especially when it came to magical creatures.

Ron blinked as he vaguely registered the fact that Luna had said something. "What was that?"

"I said," Luna repeated, her eyes steady as she stared up at him, "you look like you need help. Might I suggest some Dried Dirigible Plums? Guaranteed to lift your mood!"

Ron eyed the scarlet half-circles and wrinkled his nose. "I'll pass, thanks. Big lunch, you know."

"Ah, I see," Luna said seriously. "You know, you have a choice, Ron. You don't have to do it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ron replied through barely contained irritation. "I came here to ask you for some help on some official Auror business. The standard confidentiality charm will apply, of course, before I can tell you anything, but I promise you that it will be right up your alley."

Luna took a deep breath and slapped her cheeks loudly, which made Ron take a step back, his hand on his wand. But then she shook her head and fixed him with another one of her unnervingly steady looks and nodded.

"I accept your terms," she said, "but you ought to know that if things go unchanged, this will not end well for you."

Ron snorted in disbelief at her words. "Was that supposed to scare me? Now, stop being silly and hold out your hand."

Luna did so, staring at him owlishly all the while, which unnerved him even as he pretended it didn't.

Though blood magic was technically considered Dark Magic, certain spells, especially those pertaining to confidential proceedings, required a few drops of willingly-given blood. The Three Drop rule allowed Aurors to gain the help of experts without worrying that they would accidentally spill the beans on an ongoing investigation. Ron said the spell, which drew two drops of scarlet liquid from the tip of Luna's pinkie finger. It swirled in a circle and then reformed in a red runic shape on her wrist. Until the investigation was finished, or a trial was complete, Luna would be magically restricted from discussing anything she saw or heard regarding it.

Ron had been careful to start a case regarding a "rampaging aquatic beast" the night he'd caught the merman, and had kept the details as vague as possible to avoid any suspicion. He'd been sent to find Dark artifacts relating to Snape, after all, and it was always possible that this monster was some unholy Dark creature that had been spawned in the name of Voldemort. Ron still had his reservations about Snape's true leanings. If he was capable of killing Dumbledore, then he was capable of anything as far as Ron was concerned.

"This way, my dear," Ron said, gesturing with a gentlemanly arm towards the door once the spell was complete.

"Luna is fine," Luna said, "Or Professor Lovegood. After all, this is official business."

Ron nodded. "Well, then, Professor, follow me."

Luna pressed her lips together as though she'd tasted something sour, but nodded and followed him silently. Ron didn't notice this, though. He was already thinking about what would be served for dinner.

* * *

Luna nearly cried at the sorry state he was in when Ron had taken her to see him in the tiny abandoned professor's quarters where he'd stashed his captive. The merman had been barely able to move, wrapped in a tight netting that Luna had found out later was actually a joke product that Ron had repurposed to capture perps. It wasn't meant to cover an entire person's body for so long, especially not a creature that was meant to swim unfettered in deep waters. The netting had begun to cut into his flesh and the brackish puddle of water he lay in had gone a muddy pink.

"He's dying!" She shrieked, trying to get the rope off of his body, and Ron grabbed her by the hair and flung her to the side.

"Are you stupid?!" he shouted, "That thing could bite your arm off!"

Luna, with no thought to the stains on her robes and the sore spot on her scalp, ran to the tub in the nearby ancient bathroom and ran the water, testing the pH and altering it with her wand as it filled. She knew that she needed to get him into clean water to stabilize him until she could find something more permanent.

When she returned, she saw Ron standing over the poor creature with his boot on the bruised scales of the merman's back.

The rope had been removed (though the wounds wrought by its tightness remained), but Ron had affixed an iron shackle around the merman's neck, and was pulling on the chain until his prisoner was arched back at an uncomfortable angle, his clawed hands grasping at the metal as it choked and bit into his flesh.

"Stop it!" she screamed, startling herself with the vitriol in her voice, "You're killing him!"

And perhaps, had she been thinking clearly, it would not have happened. She aimed her wand at Ron's back and fired a stunner at him.

Ron grunted as it made contact, but his robes, like all Auror clothing, had been spelled to dampen the effects of magic. Still, he stumbled, his grasp on the chain slipping, and the merman fell slack, then, his bioluminescent lights pulsing a dark ruby red. His body hit the stone floor with a sickening thud and lay there limply.

Ron turned, his fury focused on Luna, "Why you little—"

The merman's eyes opened wide. They were dark, feral slits in an ocean of white sclera. He bared his teeth as Ron raised his hand to strike Luna, and with a burst of speed and fury, his teeth closed on three of Ron's fingers, slicing them clean through.

Ron's eyes opened wide with disbelief for a long moment, and then he roared with fury and pain, his blood pouring from the bloody stumps left behind by the merman's assault. The merman spit out the fingers and they spun away onto the floor under some dusty furniture that had been left there by its previous occupant. The exertion seemed to catch up with his wounds, then, and he collapsed forward onto the ground, his back heaving with each labored breath.

Ron turned back to the merman, but the pain and blood loss didn't allow him to do much more than hit the merman with a gritted "CRUCIO!" and before Luna could do anything, the Merman contorted in extreme pain and then lay deathly still.

"I told you it's a fucking monster," Ron growled, cradling his damaged hand and loosely wrapping it in his sleeve to sop up the gore. "You go fucking deal with it. I'm going to the—shit, it fucking burns!—the infirmary before I get some kind of fucking fish disease."

Luna said nothing as he raced from the room, but she still rushed to the merman without hesitation the moment the door had slammed behind Ron, who was still cursing and hissing with pain. Gently, she lifted his torso and pulled his arm over hers. When his eye opened partially, she gave him a small smile. "I'm here to help," she said. "I need to get you to the water."

The merman closed his eye again, but his legs twitched as she pulled him up, and he moved with her towards the bathtub.

She helped him in, her eyes stinging with tears as he stretched out in the water and she saw the extent of the damage on his body. The weight of his body made the tub overflow a bit, but she didn't care. She drew a few packets from her pocket and enlarged them. The first she opened and sprinkled into the top of the water. They puffed up and took on a prismatic rainbow color, then dispersed through the water.

"Crystallized unicorn tears," she explained. "Not as potent as phoenix, but they'll help."

Next, she pulled out a small vial of green liquid. "Diluted basilisk drool," she said, "In this form it's a pain reliever, but very potent. I'll start with a single drop."

A moment after adding it, she could see the merman physically relax, though his wounds and bruises were still sickening to look at. The pattern of bioluminescent lights on his shoulders went a washed-out lime-green color, and he closed his eyes.

"I wish I could help more," Luna said, showing him her wrist, "but as you can see, it's complicated. Is anyone looking for you? A friend? A mate? Perhaps a parent?"

 _Hermione_.

Luna blinked and, for a long moment, she wasn't sure if the name had simply popped into her head.

"Hermione?" she asked, applying some cleansing charms to her robes and massaging some salve into her scalp.

 _Yes. But that man...he has done something to her. How...how can you hear me?_

Luna smiled, her expression somewhat enigmatic. "Many living beings speak in all manner of ways. It's about taking the time to listen. What's your name, then?"

 _Severus_. The mental word breathed into her mind like a sigh, and she could tell that he was losing consciousness. The healing would go much more quickly that way, Luna knew. And, as she watched, his own body began to emit a faint glow from the inside. This was new. Luna stood and walked to the door to the bathroom, warding it as strongly as she could. She doubted that Ron would be back that evening, but she could not be sure.

"Sleep well, Severus," she said, smiling sadly at him. "I will do what I can."

Then, with a soft sigh, she cast a cushioning charm on the musty bathroom carpet and lay down to rest.

* * *

Hermione didn't want Ron to worry. She was used to taking care of herself, and she hated the feeling of being an invalid. She kept trying to go back to that night, tried to sharpen the fuzzy haze of memories of those weeks before, when she was sure something _important_ had happened. Sometimes she would have moments of clarity, but they were odd things— an herbal scent, an image of Snape with reading glasses in a dark place (the library, perhaps? There were many books behind him), inky eyes staring at her from the water, a book (well, there was always a book in her life, so what made this one any different?) hidden carefully inside of another book.

And even more oddly was that her fingers on her left hand had begun to take on a strange smoky colour. She'd had Madam Pomfrey look at them in secret, but the Mediwitch had not been able to detect any magical reason for the change. Hermione had been advised to keep an eye on it and let the Mediwitch know if there was any further changes or symptoms.

She'd started wearing her sleeve rolled down all the way, and eventually began wearing a glamour as the colour spread up to her wrist. Other than the colour, her fingers worked just as well as before, and it wasn't bothering her, so she didn't go back to the Infirmary.

It was a source of personal shame that she still found herself sleeping in Ron's quarters. Every night she told herself that she would tell Ron that she would be sleeping in her own quarters, and every night, Ron did... _something_...and she would be convinced to stay. It wasn't that he hurt her or seemed upset. She'd open her mouth to tell him on their way out of the Great Hall, and he'd tell her how it seemed like she was still so tired, and wouldn't she sleep better in his bed? Then he'd swear up and down about sleeping on the couch or the floor or whatever he needed to do to avoid impropriety. And, like some sort of fool, she always agreed.

She wasn't sure what they were to each other now. They hadn't done much more than hold hands at night sometimes, but she made sure it was always her right hand for obvious reasons. She wasn't sure he could see through the glamour, of course, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

There were other odd things. The first time she'd entered his room, she'd smelled a familiar briny scent that filled her with a sense of heart-fluttering nostalgia. But for what, she could not say. Ron's quarters were on the far side of the castle, away from the Black Lake, and she'd found drying patches of seawater on the floor near one of the walls, but once again, she'd merely cleaned it up rather than mention it to Ron, who was not the cleanest of people, even on a good day.

Ron also seemed to spend a fair amount of time with Luna. At first Hermione wondered if they were together, but when she'd asked Ron about it, he'd laughed as though it was the most humorous thing in the world.

"It's just Auror stuff," he'd say with a smile, then he'd rub her back and tell her that she'd had a hard day in those horrible dungeons, and why not just relax on his couch?

Hermione hated herself for being such a pushover, but once again, it felt inevitable that she would do as he'd asked.

Sometimes, Luna would appear and it seemed as though she wanted to say something, but then Ron would give her a stern look and she'd scurry away, holding her wrist as though it pained her.

The worst part, however, were the dreams. The dreams themselves were wonderful. She was safe; she was loved. She was floating, weightless with the scent of _him_ surrounding her as he kissed her and nuzzled and cherished her, and she never wanted to leave.

But then, the pain at her throat would begin; it was red-hot and inescapable. With horror, she'd struggle violently as the red-hot iron shackle materialized around her throat, and she was pulled, screaming and shaking with shock, from his arms and into darkness.

She could not remember his face, or what he looked like, but she knew that it was not Ron Weasley's webbed fingers that caressed her back nor was it his smoky lips trailing soft kisses around her throat until she gasped with the pleasure of it.

Ron was always there when she woke, and then he'd speak soothing words and things would get fuzzy and she'd sleep again and the dream would not come to her again. But there were some things that could not be forgotten, not when they seared themselves into her head every night. Sometimes, too, there were thoughts that were not her own. They would drift through her head and she'd see Luna's face swimming, distorted and concerned, in front of her eyes. Then, she would blink and she'd be looking at a third year's assignment, her grading quill dripping red ink onto the parchment.

Sometimes, after her classes were over for the day and before Ron could arrive from the end of his patrolling, she would walk through the Potions classroom as though in a dream, and her fingers would ghost over the bottles in her stores, but she couldn't figure out for the life of her why she was drawn to do so.

Sometimes, the tapestry on the far wall would catch her eye while she was lecturing the class, and she'd have to force herself to refocus her energy. But then someone would nearly blow up a cauldron or class would be over, or Ron would be there, grinning, in the doorway, and Hermione would forget.

Hermione felt like she was forgetting a lot lately.

Her voice had gotten worse, as well. She found that she could barely whisper, and Madam Pomfrey could not find any reason why this was the case, for her vocal cords were perfectly healthy. Undeterred by this setback, Hermione had resorted to using a voice enhancing charm in classes, and increased her usage of notes on the large chalkboard at the front of the room, but it also cut into the casual conversations she had with others, as keeping the charm activated drained her energy.

Oddly enough, Ron didn't seem to notice that Hermione had grown quieter than ever before. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it. He'd natter on and on as Hermione walked silently by his side, her shoulders hunched and her mind drifting through a fog.

"I don't feel like myself," Hermione said one morning as she looked into the mirror in Ron's bathroom. She looked gaunt and exhausted, and the gray was now nearly to her left elbow. The skin on her wrist and forearm glittered with an oil slick of colorful scales as she held it up to the light and turned it back and forth. When she spread her fingers wide, some strange automatic function in her new biology pulled up a thin membrane of skin between each finger, which retracted when she closed her hand into a fist. But rather than alarm her, she felt oddly satisfied with her new look. When she was alone, she would pull up her sleeve and examine her arm in the light, watching the colour play across her scales, and a sense of satisfaction would fill her, though she could not say why.

She'd soak in the bathtub, take a deep breath, and dunk herself underwater completely, and she would feel safe, contained. The water added a dampening effect on her senses that calmed her almost instantly. Sometimes, when she was sure that Ron would not be in, she would sneak some gillyweed from her stores and chew a single stalk, relishing the sensation of water over newly-grown gills. What she truly desired, though, was the peace and freedom of winding her way through the Black Lake, grindylows be damned. There was something... _someone_...waiting for her, she was sure of it.

And Hermione was going to find out even if it killed her.

* * *

Luna finished her rounds at the stables and began the long walk to the castle. She both dreaded and relished her daily task at the behest of the Auror, Ron Weasley. He certainly could not be called a friend any longer. Perhaps at some point he had been one, but he'd grown cocky and overly full of himself since the war had ended. Luna had seen it happening for some time. Ron was simply incapable of knowing that there was a difference between his opinion and the objectively Right Thing to Do. And Luna knew how easy it was to do terrible things in the name of thinking one knew all the answers.

Her mother had thought that way and paid the price with her life.

"How are you this fine afternoon, Severus?" she asked softly as she closed the door behind her. The tank had been repurposed from the grindylow tank Professor Lupin had used in Luna's second year at Hogwarts. She'd increased the size so that the merman within had adequate room to move and Ron had even allowed her to add some of the Black Lake's native plants and fish, but she still hated how cramped he looked inside. The confidentiality charm itched on her wrist, but she knew that this was the least of her problems. The merman in the tank was unlike any she'd ever met before, and she had met many on her travels before returning to teach and refill her coffers.

 _Better. Have you seen Hermione?_ His tone was helpful.

"Auror Weasley spends too much time at her side," Luna said, wrinkling her nose. "I think that he knows that you were involved with her."

 _It was my fault. She let her guard down when she saw me._

"It's not your fault," Luna said, pulling a full-sized tuna from her bag and climbing up the metal stairs until she reached a platform above the tank. "I hope you've got an appetite today, by the way."

 _I am ravenous for revenge, but food will do._

Severus twisted his body and rocketed up towards the top of the tank, flying up and out of the water and catching the tuna in his teeth as though it weighed nothing. His bioluminescent lights pulsed between blue and gold, and he gobbled up his prize at a terrifying pace. Soon, all that was left was a few bones and fins, which settled to the bottom of the tank for the smaller fish to peck at.

"You really are beautiful, Severus," Luna said, dipping her feet into the cool water.

 _Beautifully monstrous, you mean._ Severus swam lazy circles around her, but his voice was bitter in her head.

"No. That's your twisted interpretation. I mean what I said. I can see why Hermione likes you so much. You both have the same sort of self-deprecating humour, you know." Luna pulled a small bottle of bubbles from a pocket and blew small clusters of rainbow spheres over the tank. They both watched them burst one by one.

Severus' upper body went a strange colour that Luna supposed was the merman equivalent of blushing. _We've never spoken. Not like this. She was teaching me to speak with my hands, but then I buggered it all up._

"Be kind to yourself, Severus," Luna replied. "Auror Weasley could have decided at any time to stop, but he refuses to, be it his pride or his desire to own Hermione's affection. But a person cannot own another person. Not in any truly meaningful way."

 _He talks about a buyer for me for a private "freak" collection. He talks about having me dissected in the name of discovery. You have seen his handiwork on my body. He becomes more violent with each passing day._

Luna looked away in shame and pulled at her sweater until Severus could see her bruised shoulder. "I know."

 _We need to stop him._

"I know. I've been thinking about the limits of the compulsion charm, and I think I may just have an idea, but it's going to require a bit of suffering on both of our parts."

 _I can handle suffering. Even with the curses of my limited memory, I can assure you that I am no stranger to it._ Severus looked at Luna with his fathomless dark eyes and Luna met them with her own steady gaze. _But are you sure that you would be willing to take on such a burden for the sake of a monster?_

"A monster is made in action, not in appearance," Luna said with a sniff. "I can endure anything for my friends. Which includes you, of course."

Severus said nothing, but the vibrant blue lights down his arms gave away his happiness.

The two misfits shared the comfortable silence, holding onto the moment for as long as it would let them.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a one shot. Guess you'll have to settle for a three shot. Sorry not sorry.

Beta Thanks to Corvus Draconis and Hollowg1rl for putting up with my shenanigans.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: The Peace of the Deep**

That night, before they went to sleep, Ron asked Hermione out on a date to Hogsmeade the following weekend.

"I can reserve a balcony table at Madam Puddifoot's. It's a full moon, you know, so it'll be beautiful," Ron had said, rubbing his thumb over hers.

"But isn't that incredibly expensive?" Hermione asked, "I can't expect you to spend that much money on me."

"Don't say that, Mione! I expect to have a...bonus, from work," Ron said, "You know, yearly evaluation and all that. So how about it? Would you celebrate with me?"

Hermione thought of saying no, but he seemed so earnest. Lately, it seemed like he'd been giving her more space, and he was always so relaxed by the time the evening meal rolled around.

"It always feels so good to get all that extra frustration and energy out," he'd say with a smile that made Hermione think of his expression during the Quidditch World Cup. She could smell an odd, bloody scent coming from him under his usual sweaty musk, but when she'd asked him, he'd come up with a grotesquely detailed story about a bludger and his hand, and she'd dropped the subject. He showed her the gauze wrapped around his hand, and she'd felt vaguely ill at the scent that had emitted from it.

A small spotted owl landed in Hermione's porridge on Monday morning and Hermione's yelp of surprise was so soft that no one noticed. Her voice wasn't the only thing that had continued to change, though. Her arm was gray and scaled all the way up to her shoulder now, and her voice was so soft that the charm to amplify her speech was no longer sufficient and she'd had to consult several shops in Diagon Alley for something to help her. She'd been lucky that Jiggery's Jewels had a necklace on display with a pendant that would translate her thoughts to words said aloud in her voice, but only if she held her wand to it at all times. Not only was this exhausting, but Hermione found that unless she focused 100% of her mental energy on what she wanted to say, sometimes unexpected idle thoughts would escape her lips.

Frustrated, Hermione decided that she'd write Harry a letter asking him to pick up a Muggle book on sign language, for he'd be more well-suited to do so, seeing as he lived in London. When he'd written her back and asked her if she'd lost the other one he'd purchased for her, a pit of unease began to grow in her stomach. She replied that it had been lost, and he'd sent her another, but Ron kept "misplacing" it when she brought it to his room, which annoyed her to no end. She'd finally begun keeping it in her office in a hidden drawer of her desk.

The message tied on the owl's leg puzzled her.

 _Firenze,_

 _I am sorry, but I have to reschedule your hoof treatment due to an appointment at four this afternoon. Please accept my humble apologies._

 _Luna_

"Whatcha reading?" Ron's voice was light, but his eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

"Oh nothing," Hermione whispered back with a shrug. "Looks like this got misdelivered."

Ron relaxed and went back to stuffing his face.

But when Hermione went to Firenze later to deliver the note, the centaur looked confused.

"I just had a hoof treatment yesterday," he said, showing Hermione the healthy sheen of his hooves, which had been painted intricately with vines and flowers and covered with some sort of clear coat to protect the colour.

"I'm sure it was just a mistake, then," Hermione said with a laugh.

But then, as she went to throw the note in the rubbish bin, her mind raced back to the expression on Ron's face that morning, and how fearful Luna had looked when she'd seen Ron a few days earlier. Hermione hated the thought of being suspicious of Ron, who'd done everything possible to be a perfect gentleman...at least...she _thought_ that he had. There were so many foggy patches in her memory. It had begun to scare her that none of her studies offered any answers for why it would get _worse_ after a traumatic incident. Even worse, she was wondering if the transformation to her body had something to do with it.

Hermione's extensive experience with Hogwarts mystery shenanigans told her that all of it was far too obviously suspicious for it all to be mere coincidence. Her suspicions were further aroused when Ron told her that he had to attend an Auror meeting at four o'clock and would be unable to accompany her to supper.

And so, at ten minutes to four, Hermione stowed her remaining unmarked student essays in her desk, cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself, and set out to visit the stables.

Even with the Disillusionment over her body, Hermione still felt horribly exposed. She clutched at her robes so that they hugged her body, and she had to force herself to step lightly for all the quivering in her legs as she moved across the grassy expanse between the castle and the stables. Memories of the screaming and the fire and blood filled her mind and she bit the inside of her mouth hard enough to draw blood in the hopes of distracting herself. It worked, mostly, but she was still grateful when she reached the door to the stables. As she did, though, the door opened and Hermione scrambled to hide behind a large, scratchy bush.

It was Luna.

Hermione stared. The Care of Magical Creatures professor was wearing obnoxiously yellow wellies and a red knitted shirt that looked as though it had been meant to be a dress on the back, but the person who'd made it had given up halfway, leaving it short in the front. The turtleneck pattern covered her up to her chin, and she had her hair in braided pigtails, which were full of flowers. On her legs, she wore unicorn-print leggings that Hermione was nearly 100% sure that Harry had purchased for Luna's birthday.

"I SURE HOPE FIRENZE RECEIVED MY NOTE AND THAT IT WAS NOT ACCIDENTALLY DELIVERED TO THE WRONG PERSON!" Luna shouted loudly.

Hermione was about to stand up and make her presence known when Luna took a deep breath and shouted again. "BECAUSE IT SURE WOULD BE TERRIBLE IF SOMEONE WERE TO FOLLOW ME."

Hermione was familiar with Luna's various eccentricities, (many of which rubbed her the wrong way), but this was completely different. Hermione watched as Luna stood around for several minutes, then loudly exclaimed, "WELL, HERE I GO."

Hermione watched Luna start down the road that wound around the back of the castle and the Black Lake and took a deep breath. Not only was it mostly grassland the whole way to the boathouse but Hermione remembered what Ron had told her about what had happened there... _something_ had grabbed her…

Hermione set her jaw and took a determined step forward. Something told her that this was more important than her fear— every night in her dreams before the pain and the darkness found her, she had heard _his_ song in her head, felt _his_ arms around her. There was a familiar scent to Luna's sweater that Hermione could catch as the wind shifted in her direction, and it only tightened her resolve.

She had to know the truth.

* * *

Luna was fairly certain that Hermione was following her. Though she knew no one else could see them, a thick cloud of Wrackspurts buzzed merrily around the Disillusioned professor in a sadly endearing manner. She hummed happily as she moved along slowly to make sure that she wouldn't outpace her follower. If Severus was going to escape, it would have to be now, and she needed Hermione because the confidentiality charm physically stopped Luna from opening the doors to let Severus go free.

Ron, she knew, was off at Hogsmeade talking to a potential buyer for the "freakish specimen." Ron had laughed in Severus' face about how he'd probably be stuffed and placed in a glass case for a rich wizard to show off to his friends like some kind of hunting trophy. If the meeting went well, Luna knew that the chances of Severus escaping safely would be close to zero.

Severus was already weak, despite her best efforts to keep him healthy. Ron had developed a habit of torturing Severus while she was forced to watch and take notes. Though every cell in her body itched to hex Ron to the ends of the Earth, Severus had told her that she was not allowed to intervene.

 _You know what he did last time, Luna. I cannot ask you to endure it again...or worse._

If she refused, Ron would hit her somewhere that could be easily hidden by her clothing, and one time, when she had pulled him off of Severus after he'd cruelly shoved a hot poker into the merman's belly, Ron even threatened to rape her.

"I can't do this with Hermione, you know," he'd slurred, his voice reeking of alcohol as he'd pawed at her chest. "She's going to be my wife, so I gotta do things well and proper like. But you...you're just the kooky girl who sees imaginary creatures. Nobody would believe _you_. Especially if I ask you all nicely-like. Don't you want to do that for me, Luna?"

In the background, Severus weakly pulled against the shackle around his neck, and thick, dark blood oozed from his wound as he gasped with the pain and exertion of it.

"I wonder, if I could make the monster compliant too. Is that what you want? To fuck the fish? Even though you could have a _real_ man? Maybe I should do a little experiment, see if he can't fill you with freakish half-human spawn. I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Luna had looked into Ron's eyes with a defiant expression, and to show just how unaffected she was by his hypnotic voice, she spat in his face. He'd grown so furious that he'd backhanded her and stormed out of the room, but not before screaming at her to clean up the blood that had splattered onto the floor.

* * *

"Oh, I most certainly do hope I am not being followed!" Luna exclaimed to distract herself from her violent memories.

Luna turned her head back and smirked to herself when she heard Hermione swear softly at getting a sleeve caught on the bramble bush she'd dived behind. Luna had to keep up some semblance of decorum, or the charm on her wrist would begin to burn unbearably hot, and Ron had been careful not to mince any words when describing what would happen if she did not acquiesce to the limitations of the charm.

But Luna's love of magical creatures, especially those who could not protect themselves, was more important than her own safety, and she was willing to risk it. Even though he definitely did not regard her as an equal, he still seemed to hold back from mortally wounding Severus while she was watching.

She'd also picked up on the fact that the fury that Ron felt for Severus wasn't merely due to Severus being non-human. There was something personal in the way that he cut into the merman's flesh, in the words that he used while he taunted and insulted.

If it had been anyone else, they would have wondered why Ron seemed to be jealous of a creature from the depths of the Black Lake.

But Luna was a Lovegood down to her bones, and she had gotten to the heart of the matter; Hermione had loved Severus, and Ron had ensured that they would never see one another again.

It was all wrong.

Which was why it was up to her to make things right.

"As usual," Luna said softly to herself, "they simply do not know how to look for what is right in front of their faces."

* * *

Hermione was getting tired of diving into bushes. She was pretty sure a rock was permanently lodged into one of her toes—the one that was _already_ in the process of developing a sizable blister. And if that wasn't bad enough, she'd had an itch on her back in a place that she couldn't reach easily for at least the past five minutes. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't some manner of biting insect—a tick, a spider, a mosquito—she brushed her hair out of her face again and focused on Luna.

She wanted to scream. Luna sure was taking her sweet, sweet time. The walk, which probably should have only taken a few minutes, was beginning to feel like some sort of expedition.

Frustrated, Hermione quickened her pace. Luna, who'd been waving at a butterfly, immediately quickened hers. Hermione stopped. Luna stopped and bent over to look at a pebble.

'She's keeping an almost equal distance from me. I'm betting that isn't a coincidence,' Hermione thought. 'Two can play at this game.'

Hermione crouched down onto the ground, stretching out her legs a bit, then jogged in place for a few moments.

Luna, meanwhile, was transferring an unusually large stick bug that she'd found in the grass from one hand to the other, seemingly oblivious.

With a deep breath, Hermione dropped her head and started into a sprint.

Immediately, Luna seemed to disappear from where she'd been standing. When Hermione lifted her head, she was shocked to see Luna skipping merrily through the air with her hands outstretched as though balancing on an invisible tightrope. The stick bug had somehow migrated on top of her head, and appeared to be clinging on for dear life.

'Hmph, she's good, but I can do better!' Hermione thought, pushing herself harder than before.

Luna's stride lengthened, and Hermione once more found herself flabbergasted. Luna had done some quick transfiguration work and her body from the thighs on down had elongated into giraffe's legs. The sound of her hooves was deafening in Hermione's ears, but she continued to run after Luna until finally, they reached the back door to the castle. Luna was sitting by the door with her eyes closed as though she was meditating when Hermione finally arrived, panting and sweating like crazy from her run.

"You...are...such...a…" Hermione wheezed, her voice the barest of whispers.

"Hey, Hermione?" Luna asked, her eyes still closed.

"Yes?" Hermione panted, trying to catch her breath.

"I know you're tired, but my wrist is starting to burn, so if you could point your wand somewhere vital and threaten me to open the door upon pain of death, I'd really appreciate it." Luna opened one eye and indicated her wrist, upon which the charm was starting to smoke.

Hermione immediately did as she was told, putting her wand to Luna's neck. "Open the door upon pain of death, then," she hissed.

"Ah, that's better," Luna replied as the smoke dissipated. "Bit of a loophole, that. The charm can't hurt me if I'm in mortal danger."

Hermione could see the ugly welt rising on Luna's

wrist, and underneath it, the shape of the Confidentiality charm, and she felt a stab of anger. "Did Ron do this?"

"It wasn't a mountain troll, I can tell you that," Luna replied sagely.

"How...how can you understand me?" Hermione asked, realizing that she hadn't used her charmed necklace to speak.

"As I told _him_ , it's all about knowing how to listen." Luna smiled enigmatically. "Also, I know how to read lips. Father and I often have entire silent conversations over the roar of his printing press, so I have had loads of practice. It's rather fun, don't you agree?"

"I don't know if _fun_ is the word I'd use," Hermione grumbled.

"Speaking of fun, please, let me see your arm," Luna requested.

"I thought that I was holding you hostage on pain of death," Hermione retorted, pulling her sleeve away. She was not particularly chomping at the bit to reveal her... _transformation_ , not even to Luna, who would probably be more accepting than most. "So. Upon pain of death, etcetera etcetera, open the door or else."

Luna shrugged and did as she was told. Hermione followed behind Luna, looking at the interior with great interest. They walked down a long stone passageway, which ended in another door. Then they repeated the charade another time and entered what looked to be an old, unused professors' quarters.

"Professor Lupin used to stay here," Luna said, sliding her finger over a dusty table.

 _Who is there?! Luna? Hermione?_

Hermione shook her head to clear the shouting in her head, even as her stomach did a somersault that felt somehow familiar. "Who was _that_?"

Luna smiled. "Only the reason you're here, Hermione. Tell me, have you been having odd dreams lately?"

Hermione swallowed thickly and nodded.

Luna grabbed a long, golden rope, which hung down one side of the two large, slightly moth-eaten red velvet curtains that stood near the far wall.

"Do you order me to pull this," Luna asked seriously, "on pain of death?"

"The most painful ever, I promise" Hermione promised, rolling her eyes.

Luna pulled the rope and stepped aside, a knowing look on her face.

Hermione stumbled backwards, her hand over her mouth.

 _Hermione?_

The familiar voice brought her back to her senses, and she took one halting step forward, then broke into a wobbly run, grasping the rickety metal railing that led up the tall metal staircase to the top of the massive glass tank.

He was waiting for her as she rounded the final bend and clattered onto the platform, his dark eyes watching her steadily. He reached up to her, his webbed, scaled hand glittering in the torchlight, and she could not help but drop to one knee and mirror his movement, reaching out with her left hand, the one she'd hidden from all others.

The one that _matched his_.

Her mind flashed with fuzzy memories of a cozy room with him floating above her, and then their fingers touched. Rather than the cold, slimy sensation she'd expected, his fingers were warm and firm under hers. Then, a shock of sensation shot up her arm like a bolt of lightning, and the fog in her mind lifted.

Hermione tipped forward, then, and she found herself floating in the cool, calming, greenish-blue water with _his_ arms wrapped tightly around her. For the first time since that last night in Severus' hidden quarters, she finally felt truly at _home_.

 _Hermione, look._

She opened her eyes. He was close; closer than she'd ever been, save the dreams. But this was so, so real. He pressed his forehead against hers.

 _Severus. How—?_ Her eyes went wide. Even though her thoughts were in turmoil, she knew that she'd somehow said those words with her mind.

— _Did you get to be just like me?_ He held up her right hand, and she was shocked to see that it now matched her left in both colour and form.

 _I...I'm terrible. I forgot you, Severus._ Hermione could feel the stinging sensation as she fought to hold back tears, but the water surrounded her like a comforting hand and the pressure of his body against hers made it hard for her to know if she'd had any luck in keeping them from escaping.

 _Not of your own accord. I know what he did to you...what he did to_ _ **both**_ _of us._ Severus' eyes flashed and Hermione could feel her own doing the same.

 _It still doesn't excuse my stupidity for letting my guard down!_ Hermione winced as her mind-voice echoed through the water. She hadn't been able to yell for so long that she'd almost forgotten she could do it, albeit in a different way than she was used to.

 _Hermione...you can't control everything._

 _Yes I can! If I just do everything, take every precaution, I'll finally feel safe! I'll finally stop having flashbacks to the battle, to the screams, to the smells of death! Because if I don't...if that doesn't work...the alternative is...is…_

 _Hermione…_

She shook her head. _I can't be broken. I won't allow myself to be. I have to be strong. Stronger._

 _Why?_

Hermione frowned, glaring at Severus. She hadn't expected this to be the sort of thing that the silent, friendly merman who'd kept her company for so many weeks would say to her. _How could you say that? I need to be strong because I have always had to be strong. If I don't, then I_ _ **have**_ _nothing, then I_ _ **am**_ _nothing!_

Severus stared at her with those large, dark eyes, and something like a bitter smirk played across his lips. _Understandable. I can relate, actually._

 _Then why would you say that?_ She willed herself not to let her lip quiver, not to break down again.

 _Because it's true, and you know it._

Hermione wanted to argue. She wanted to shout. But when she forced herself to think about it, she had to admit that what she had been doing wasn't strength at all. She'd hidden away, distanced herself, isolated herself in mind and body, and lived a smaller, duller life out of _fear_. Even now, as she let a few small bubbles escape from her mouth and realized that she had not needed to take a single breath of air for at least a full ten minutes, she could feel the fear rising, the desire to turn in on herself and shut out everything else to avoid the inevitable conclusion she'd have to come to, given her quick, clever mind.

 _Come, Hermione. I want to show you something._

He pulled her closer to the glass of the tank and Hermione saw in it the truth of her new flesh. Her eyes were huge, liquid, and golden, like the sand inside of a Time-Turner. Her gills were pink and fluttered gracefully about her throat like a frilled collar. Her skin had gone gray, except for her face, which was a beautiful sandy colour, with intricate midnight blue markings spiraling down her cheeks and neck and over her shoulders. Her hands matched now, smoky gray and webbed, the scales shimmering in the water like jewels. And her vision had cleared, much to her joy, and when she turned to look back at Severus, she noticed the matching silvery markings down his cheeks and neck.

 _I know that I once was a man of the earth—a wizard who wished only to survive when all was lost. But after I met you, everything changed. I had hoped to be cured of my curse at the full moon, but it has surely passed and I had begun to think that all was lost._ The regret in his words filled Hermione's head and she wrapped her arms around him almost instinctively and tucked her head against his chest. _But now...I cannot think of a more beautiful gift than the one you have given me now._

Hermione waited for a moment to feel disappointment and anger at her altered appearance, for surely it was some sort of curse of its own, but instead all she felt was relief. The water was soothing on her scales. It pushed against her comfortingly, and with _him_ there she found a part of her that she had been unable to silence for so long had finally gone still.

It was then that she heard a deep sound ringing against her ear. It took her a long moment to place the sound. He was _humming_. The sound built, full and round, inside of him, and rose until it burst from his lips in much the same way as the sound had erupted from golden egg that Harry had won in the Triwizard Tournament.

It was the most beautiful sound that Hermione had ever heard.

His voice flowed through her in a pulse of power, and Hermione felt her own voice rise to meet his. She wavered at first, but her tone was clear, and rode high over the deep baritone of his voice as they sang to one another. He sang to her of his loneliness, of his joy at sharing time with her. He sang of how he would have her for his mate eternal, if only she would answer him.

She, in return, sang of her pain, of the shame of her trauma and her own own, self-imposed loneliness.

She sang of the stillness inside of her when he wrapped his arms around her—of the clarity of memory he bestowed upon her—and of the rightness of swimming at his side and sharing their lives to lessen the burden of their healing.

Her markings shone like starlight alongside his, as they turned in the water, wild magic building up around them with the power of their duet.

So enthralled were they with one another, and the deeply wild nature of the magic that surrounded them, that they did not see the door fly open and Ron's red-faced exclamation of fury as he saw the two in the tank. The figure (who was likely the one who had successfully bid on the odd merman specimen) who stood behind him in a long, dark robe, face hidden by a hood, took one look and turned around to run for their life. Ron ran towards the tank, his face hot with fury, and and banged on the glass with his fists. His rage was so great that he did not seem to notice the cracks that had already begun to spread across the tank and tiny sprays of water were beginning to spurt randomly from where they intersected.

 _Let us return, my love, to the deep,_

 _Where we are safe, where we can sleep,_

 _Away from the hate upon the shore,_

 _Come be mine forevermore._

Bright, golden bioluminescent lights ran up their arms and down their spines as long, spiny fins burst from their backs like spiky wings, all glowing brightly as they fed the rivulets of power down the markings on their bodies. The magic pressed harder and harder against the tank until finally, it gave way, and the glass shattered. The water around Severus and Hermione flexed like a living thing, and pushed outward, filling the room. The warded door to the room could not withstand the power of the water and the magic that it held, and it broke through. Severus and Hermione were wrapped in a protective current of water and flew with it until they burst from the door and out into the early evening air.

The torrent did not dissipate once it reached the road, though; it held its form as though it were a massive snake made of water, flying back towards the Black Lake with a singular purpose. At the head of it, Severus and Hermione twisted together, their hands and bodies wound tightly as their voices resonated through the entire length of the water, amplifying the sound until it echoed across the hills.

Later, some would say that it had been heard as far as London, though others refused to believe such nonsense.

With a roar, the water rushed into the Black Lake, disappearing with little more than a ripple behind to show that it had passed by. A few minutes later, Luna surfaced and spread out so that she was lying on her back in the water staring at the stars as they began to appear above her, sighing as the effects of the tiny strand of gillyweed she'd chewed on finally wore off. She cocked her head as if she could hear something from far away, and shrugged, loving the sensation of the water rippling around her shoulders.

"He can wait."

Below her, the Black Lake glowed softly and the muted sound of the song continued to echo through the water for a long time afterwards.

Even the Giant Squid kept its distance from the two as they twisted together in the darkness, their glowing scaled bodies glittering together as they consummated their bond. Hermione's legs were wrapped around Severus' back as he finally slipped deep into her core, the head of his cock pressed snuggly against the entrance to her womb.

They were weightless and free in the water to move and change position in all manner of ways, their minds linked together in pleasure as they freely fed one another the sensation of what the other was experiencing. Their mental bond was no longer mere conversation, it was deep enough to feel everything right down to their very souls—each stripped so bare while also experiencing such a magnitude of trust was the most delicious and rarest of pleasures.

When they were finally spent, they floated together in the water, their webbed feet kicking lazily to keep them in place. Then, Severus took Hermione's hand and brought her to a soft, sandy place, and tucked her into it just as Neffie had done years ago for him. Then, he lay down next to his mate and kissed her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her before both finally slipped into a sated slumber.

* * *

Ron Weasley was having a bad day. No, scratch that. He was having a fucking abysmal day. As usual, he'd been reckless and had paid the price for it.

"No," he groaned, "it's all _her_ -ugh-fault…"

One of his eyes was swollen shut from when his face had slammed into part of the metal railing, and as he gingerly turned his head to look down at his arm (which was bent at a terribly unnatural angle), he also saw the jagged shards of glass jutting from his chest. He was just beginning to think that it was odd that he wasn't feeling any pain when several simultaneous stabs of agony wracked through his body and he began to shake uncontrollably. He tried to scream, but all that escaped his lips was a strange, wet "whumph" noise.

His wand lay on the ground near the far wall, but he had no strength left to summon it. His undamaged arm fell at his side, sending another wave of pain and nausea through his body.

"H..help muh-me," he rasped, disgusted by the sticky, wet sensation squelching under his robes as he struggled to breathe. As he lost consciousness, his last thoughts were of that damned merman and how he ought to have gutted the damn fish himself when he had the chance.

* * *

The full moon seemed artificially huge in the sky as Severus and Hermione clasped hands on the bank of the river. The lower halves of their bodies were still submerged in the shallows, but they still sat upright, their eyes shining with their love for one another. The wild magic that had freed them had already bonded them for life in the eyes of the merfolk and the denizens of the Forbidden Forest, but Severus could not bear to keep Hermione from her work at Hogwarts, and Potions class simply wasn't compatible with a body that required submersion in moisture at least 90% of the time.

 _We don't have to do this,_ Hermione said in her mind-voice, her frilled ears quivering. _Hogwarts will survive. Minerva will be able to hire another person to take over for me._

 _You know that there is no one more qualified in this world. Besides myself, of course,_ Severus replied, his webbed foot twisting around hers in a comforting gesture. _It is only thanks to our bond that I remember more and more of my old life, but even without it, I can tell that your heart grows full when you are able to impart information and skills upon others. I may have the skill, but I do not have the patience for the vast majority of the dunderheads you call students. Even when I become a land dweller once more, I shall always be able to visit the lake as long as I have some gillyweed and the desire to do so._

 _I know...but…I am stealing you away from them._ Hermione's golden eyes sparkled like starlight and she looked up at the moon because she couldn't bear the sight of the torn expression that she could practically feel radiating from his face.

 _The book you provided to the merfolk has given them new ways to advocate for themselves, Hermione. You know that they wish only happiness for the both of us._ Severus covered her delicately webbed hands with his and grasped them tightly. _With you by my side, I could endure anything._

Hermione meant to say something, but a strange glow by the shore refocused her attention, and she found herself left speechless by what she saw.

In between the nest of gillyweed, a giant, perfect bloom was swelling and growing under the light of the full moon as it hit its apex. The thin petals were as transparent as thin wisps of smoke, but the veins inside pulsed with prismatic colours like a jellyfish, and it began to emit an utterly intoxicating scent both unlike anything she'd ever smelled before and somehow familiar as though she'd dreamt of it once and forgotten it until that very moment. In truth, it was as intimate and perfect as any moment in her life, and with the pressure of Severus' body against her own, she sighed with the pleasure of it despite herself.

 _The Gillyheart has heard your desire._ Neffie was behind them both, her webbed fingers gently pressing against the shoulders of her adopted son and her new daughter-in-law. _Take its gift with hearts of peace and let it give you its truth._

Both Severus and Hermione gently plucked a velvety soft petal from the bloom, watching as the long, thin length of it curled until it resembled a tiny, luminous crepe.

They looked at one another, nodded, and placed the petal on their tongues, letting the flavour linger on their tongues before swallowing it.

The change flowed through their bodies, lifting them into the air and wracking them with painless yet strong spasms. Gills faded, webbing shrank away, skin grew pearlescent and pink, and their eyes shrank down to human-sized irises.

Hermione opened her eyes to see Severus, his body bare, lying on the bank next to her. His skin was scarred and bruised in the moonlight, but all she could see was the wound on his neck gaping terribly. Blackish blood had already begun to flow from it, and Hermione gasped, flying to his side regardless of the cold air on her naked skin.

His eyes were half-lidded, in shock, as the magic restored him to the state he'd been in at the time of the change, and Hermione turned back towards the bloom only to notice that it had gone puff-ball white, tiny orbs glittering as the moon began to set. With a gust of wind, each broke free of its moor and they blew across the Black Lake, floating along the top of it like tiny bubbles.

Hermione turned back to Severus, her nudity reminding her that all of the phials of potions hidden in her robes, not to mention her wand had sunk to the bottom of the Black Lake; lost forever.

His hand was grasping for hers, and he made a wretched choking noise. He was trying to say her name.

"Shh, shh, stop it," Hermione said softly, her hands covering his wound.

 _Hermione….please...there was a chance that this might happen…._

"You knew this might happen?" Hermione's voice cracked, but it was back to normal.

 _Please...Hermione...sing to me..._

His mind voice was weak, but she heard him as clearly as if he'd spoken the words to her aloud.

"I...I can't…" Hermione's eyes stung.

 _...try...for me…_

Hermione opened her mouth and a choked sound escaped from her lips. "Hoggy...Hoggy...Hogwarts…"

A wheezing laugh escaped his throat and he raised a shaking finger to her chest. _No...sing...from...here._

His hand dropped heavily as he lost consciousness and Hermione stiffened with terror and she grasped for something, anything to change the scene of horror before her. Something deep and magical pulsed from inside of her, radiating outward, answering her call. Her hair flew around her in staticky snarls like snakes lit up by tiny arcs of lightning and her eyes glowed golden as she looked down upon his still form.

 _Her mate. The love of her life. The twin to her own soul._

 _Sing to him a song from you heart._ The voice in her head was her own, but it filled her with a new knowledge that flowed through every fiber of her being.

The world shrunk down around her and everything was silent as though waiting for _something_.

Only Hermione knew what that _something_ was.

She knelt down onto the grassy cold bank of the lake, her forehead pressing against Severus' cold cheek, and she _sang_.

Warmth and power rolled through the air, filling it with tiny points of light as she poured out the power of her heart and soul into healing the one she loved beyond all reason. She knitted his body together from the inside out, her power infusing his magical core with heat until it sparked anew and his heart began to beat in tune with hers. A small sigil began to form on his chest above his heart; it was curved and segmented like a shell. And then, finally, his hand rose and rested against her chest, where the twin to his marking rested darkly against the glow of her skin.

"You...have improved," he said weakly, then, and she crushed herself against him with relief, smothering him with kisses.

"I knew you could pass the Gillyheart's boon with flying colours," Luna said, appearing from the gloom, with two long cloaks made of woven flowers. "Come, now, the others are waiting."

Both Severus and Hermione blushed scarlet but Luna just laughed airily, her voice like tinkling bells.

"Don't worry," she said mysteriously, "This is nowhere nearly as embarrassing as that one time where my clothes got eaten by Scarlet Twinbills and I had to get back to Ravenclaw Tower completely starkers."

Hermione started giggling first at the absurdity and then she heard the deep thrum of Severus' chuckle in his chest as she lay against him. She rose, snickering at how quickly Severus went to cover his nudity (especially considering how cavalier he'd been while in his aquatic form), and allowed Luna to adorn her with the flowery cloak. Luna lifted her wand and a flower crown wove through Hermione's hair.

"You look lovely, Hermione," Luna said dreamily, kissing her friend on both cheeks. "Oh, and this is yours."

Hermione's wand (which had been polished and waxed) was pressed into her hand, and Hermione threw her arms tightly around Luna in thanks.

"Severus," Luna said, "because I believe that if anyone other than Hermione has the right to call you that, it would be me, please step forward."

She fastened the floral cloak around him, and somehow it looked fitting on his tall, emaciated frame. A flower crown, too, was woven through his dark, lank hair, and she kissed him once on the cheek before he was able to stand up on his toes and avoid the other.

"A gift for you, too," she said, bowing down and producing his wand in her hands.

Severus was so stunned that when he bent down to grab the wand and Luna kissed his other cheek, he didn't even protest.

"Come now," Luna said, once Hermione and Severus had linked hands. "The others—"

"–are waiting. We know," Severus snarked. "How the devil did you get these cloaks so soft, anyway? They should itch like mad."

"Nargle silk, of course," Luna replied matter-of-factly. "Now, then, come on."

"Are you ready to see them?" Hermione asked, squeezing Severus' hand.

"Yes," he replied, squeezing back, "but only if you stay by my side. I doubt I'll be able to endure their insipid chatter otherwise."

"Oh, Severus," Hermione replied, smiling, "I'm so glad that you're back."

"I'd never forgive myself if I did anything else," he said, quirking his lip. "You'd be furious."

"You're damned right I'd be," Hermione said with a smirk, and she couldn't help but pull on his hand so that he'd angle his face down enough for her to kiss him softly on the lips. "I'd sing the worst rendition of the Hogwarts theme song over your grave every day just to spite you."

"You wouldn't!" Severus said in mock horror.

"Does this look like the face of someone who would lie to you?" Hermione said, pointing at herself.

"Duly noted," Severus mused, and, hand in hand, they walked up the pathway behind Luna to what awaited them beyond.

* * *

Ron's eyes fluttered open and a groan of confusion passed through his cracked lips. His body still hurt terribly all over, but he was fairly certain that he was not dead. The magical shackles that bound his wrists and ankles were an indication of that, as he doubted that the afterlife was that kinky.

"Ron, why?" Harry was saying, as he sat beside the bed, his head drooped with defeat. "Why did you have to do it? Why couldn't you let her go?"

Ron tried to reply, but his mouth was thick and uncooperative.

"You told me that we'd quit the Aurors Department together, that we'd both take a year; a sabbatical to find ourselves That...that you'd figure yourself out as someone without Hermione...but you never did any of that, did you?" Harry's glasses were fogged up, and Ron was fairly certain he'd been crying. No matter how hard he tried, he could not move his body or his mouth, and it began to dawn upon him that this sort of existence was possibly worse than death.

"The medi-witches say that your spinal cord was shredded. The damage was too severe for magical healing to take properly, and every therapy I've tried to get for you has failed. It's almost as though you got in the way of powerful magic, and from what Luna has said, you did, though I can't find anything like it in any of the books I've read through on the subject." Harry's hand drew into a fist, and then loosened with defeat. "And the worst part is, even if you did heal, you'd be looking at a lifetime in Azkaban for what you did. Luna's memories alone...what were you thinking, mate? How could you use the Compliance Charm like that? Not to mention the unauthorized use of a Compulsion Stone. You've disgraced the name of the Aurors, and Luna wasn't able to sleep well at night for several months after everything happened. That's right, Ron. Luna and I...we...we're planning on marrying next June. I wish you could see her. She's grown into such a wonderful woman these past four years—no thanks to you."

Inside his head, Ron was screaming _WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOUR YEARS HAVE PASSED?! WHERE IS HERMIONE?! SHE OWES ME! SHE SHOULD BE HERE CRYING OVER MY BROKEN BODY NOT YOU!_

But, of course, no one heard him.

Harry patted him on the arm, but Ron couldn't even feel it.

"The nurses said that your eye movement is random and not indicative of actual thought, but I can at least pretend that you know exactly what I'm saying, and that I'm here to finally let my hatred and grudges go. Luna came by earlier and put some sort of flower over your chest, said that it would give her closure, and I guess that was her way. But this is mine."

Harry pointed his wand at Ron's face and a look of fury clouded his features. "I hope you suffer, Ron Weasley. You are worse than Draco Malfoy, and I would spit on you if it would do any good. If you do heal one day, you had better never come within five miles of Luna or myself, or I'll hex your bits into bits. Goodbye, Ron Weasley. Hopefully, whatever you did to become this sorry broken man was worth it, because everyone knows the truth about you now."

Ron was screaming mindlessly, now. He was certain he was going mad, that this must be some sort of nightmare. He tried to reach towards Harry, to explain himself, to explain that Hermione was _his_ and he'd only tried to show her that fact. He wanted to tell him that he'd not meant to hurt Luna, that she'd resisted, that he'd been forced to do what he had. He wanted to blame the merman, wanted to tell Harry who the true villain was in all of this, but he could not do anything to stop the door from closing behind his former best friend.

As it swung closed, he saw Luna, who had grown older and taller than she had been before. Her hair was long and had random braids and clips and beads interspersed through it, but it suited her. She was speaking with Harry, and wrapped her arms around him, but as she did, she glanced into the room and locked eyes with Ron, her expression cold and focused.

 _She knew. The bitch knew! That flower, it brought him back from wherever he'd been in blissful sleep and now...and now…_

 _I tried to warn you, Mr. Weasley. Oh, and Severus and Hermione say hello_ , Luna's voice said, echoing in his head before he felt mental walls slam down around him, trapping him inside.

Ron was alone in the darkness, a prison from which he could never escape; a prison that he had brought upon himself with his actions.

And there, as his soul withered in the shell of his broken body, Ron Weasley slowly lost his mind.

* * *

 _Ten years later…_

Severus sank into the water with the seasoned familiarity of an old professional. As he pressed against the sigil on his chest and called to his other form, his legs melted into a long, silver-scaled tail, complete with dorsal fin and smudgy dark gray patterning to the frills on his tail. His hands were finely webbed and his black hair swirled around him in the water, unmoored by gravity's normal constraints. His ears were long and frilled at the tips and his eyes were swallowed by darkness with silver fire burning in their depths, his grin as sharp as Neffie's ever was. Hermione, swam by his side, her body already acclimated to the change, and they swam circles around each other as they lost each other in the euphoria of the water.

Their children, Sedna and Julian, swam below them, kicking in and out of the grasses as they tried to lose each other in their game of tag. Though Julian was older, Sedna had been the first to master the full change on her own, and had easily begun to speak the language of the water-dwelling creatures. Her friendship with a romp of otters, all of whom had become her fast friends, was legendary, and they would always whistle and wave at her from shore whenever she passed by the Black Lake on an errand for her parents.

Julian would be starting his first year at Hogwarts as a student in the fall, but he wasn't worried.

As Hermione often said, "The only thing keeping the boy from Sorting Ravenclaw for sure is that the Tower is too far away from the Black Lake."

Sedna was far less interested in studying, as she tended to learn best with hands-on lessons, but her innate magical ability, even without a wand, was impressive. Severus, for all of his hatred of dunderheads, excelled as a father, doting on his children but also offering a stern and firm parental figure. He taught them both in Muggle and magical lessons, and from their performance was fairly certain that they'd be at least two years ahead of the rest when they started at Hogwarts. When he was not attending to his children, or his loving wife, however, Severus had become a force to be reckoned with in the fight for Mer-rights at the Ministry of Magic. Severus' unique perspective, and his war hero status afforded him the sort of clout and speaking power that was second only to Harry Potter himself. Hermione, on the other hand, had been largely freed from her debilitating agoraphobia and PTSD-induced panic attacks when she had cemented the bond with her husband. Still, she knew that letting any lingering trauma fester was no longer an option, so she spent a few years in therapy with a trusted and discrete Muggleborn therapist in Hogsmeade. Meanwhile, she stayed on at Hogwarts as Deputy Headmistress, and now, with Minerva nearing ninety years of age, would likely take over as Headmistress in a few years. But when her husband spoke at the Ministry, she stood by his side, her hand in his in solidarity as they battled bigotry and ignorance against magical sapient beings.

Marlin had become a doting uncle in his own right, instructing his niece and nephew on the finer points of merfolk life. He was an expert fisherman, bringing back bounties of the sea to his clan and his family, and sold the extra catch to Hogwarts.

Neffie had gone on to found the first interspecies sign language class at Hogwarts. She taught both mer-children as well as Hogwarts students. It was considered an elective for third year and above, and nearly all the Slytherin students took it in order to communicate with the merfolk at their window. She adored and spoiled her grandchildren, treating them to her hypnotic voice and of course all of the best seafood (her specialty being abalone medallions so sweet and buttery that they melted on the tongue).

Hermione grasped at her husband's hand with her own, twirling through the water and finding herself in his arms. He wrapped his tail around hers and they danced in the silent water as the mid-afternoon sun filtered down into the depths.

 _Ew, Mum and dad are being lovey-dovey again!_ Sedna's mind-voice complained.

 _Then don't look. At least our parents are happy together. Not many kids are lucky enough to have that._ Julian, as usual, was the voice of reason. _Come on then, Sed. I bet I can beat ya on a swim around the lake._

 _Bet ya can't!_ In a swirl of bubbles and speed and a triumphant laugh, Sedna burst ahead.

Julian sped after her but not before looking back at his parents for a moment.

 _Go on, then, Julian, or I'm going to snog your mum in a highly inappropriate manner in front of you,_ Severus deadpanned.

 _Oh. Wow. Thanks for the mental image, Dad._ Julian's mind-voice was nearly identical in tone, though he had quite a ways to go before his voice would be as deep as his father's.

 _Scamps, the both of them,_ Severus complained as Hermione kissed him on the lips.

 _Yes, but they're our scamps,_ Hermione agreed.

 _Correct as usual, my love_. Severus kissed her back, then his eyebrow arched suggestively. _You know, I wasn't merely joking about snogging you in a highly inappropriate manner._

 _Don't mind if I do._ Hermione's mind-voice was a purr and they sank slowly into the darker depths of the Black Lake, their hearts beating together in perfect synchronicity.


End file.
